


The Game After Checkmate

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: Nearly two years after the upheaval, Gavin was still stumbling through the brave new world.  A fistfight, a chance encounter, and the steps to fixing what he's broken become clear.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 65
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to [Msilverstar](https://msilverstar.tumblr.com/) for not only being an amazing beta, but being an amazing supporter of my work for lo these many years. 
> 
> This story contains discussion of child abuse past and briefly present.
> 
> I know I'm showing up two years late to a fandom with Starbucks, but sometimes things are stressful so you binge read a lot somewhere new and then get ideas.

It was a nice night, crisp and clear. He was the pleasant kind of drunk where he was warm and the world wasn’t yet spinning. 

“Hey, fucker!” 

They swarmed out of nowhere, five or six of them. 

“You’re the cop that got Charlie!” One of them snarled. 

“Sure, why not?” Gavin’s buzz drained away and a different hum started in his veins. His palms itched. “I put a lot of people away.” 

“No uniform now,” another of them growled. “And no partner.” 

Gavin could’ve pointed out that as a detective he could wear whatever he wanted that covered his balls and that his last partner had been dead for five years. He’d been branded bad luck on top of being an enormous asshole after that, so he’d been blissfully partner free since then. 

“Still an assault on an officer,” he muttered instead, already gauging his odds. 

Not great. His gun was safely at home. He was outnumbered. No one knew where he was right now. It was Friday night, late, on a quiet commercial street. Next patrol probably wouldn’t roll through for an hour or so. 

And apparently they weren’t worried about their records because one of them took a swing that he just managed to dodge. He rolled back his shoulders. 

“You’re sloppy, fucko. Shit form,” he threw the next punch and it landed with a satisfying crunch. Wouldn’t Dad be proud? 

The general mayhem of a fight followed. Wild swings, kicks, viciousness. Gavin’s blood sang. He was connecting more often than they were, but there were more of them. He was looking for openings, resigning himself to a good old fashioned foot race before they got him on the ground when he heard a new voice. 

“Excuse me, gentleman,” it was cool, loud without shouting. There was a sharp snap, one of his adversaries went down like a lead balloon. “You’re blocking my way.” 

“Fuck you!” 

“No, thank you.” One of the still standing five went for this new target, their attention still mostly on Gavin. 

Another crack. Gavin didn’t pay any mind, focused on getting out of this with his knees intact as they resorted to kicking, preventing his lunging fists. 

And then there was someone at his back. 

“Good evening, Detective Reed,” the man said pleasantly. 

“Oh yeah it’s a fucking nice one.” He launched himself on one of his attackers, kneeing them soundly in the balls, and getting the heel of his hand into their solar plexus. 

_Son, the only thing that matters in a fight is that you come out of it alive._

Behind him, the thick thud of flesh on flesh in the unfun way. Good for his new best friend. Another guy rushed him. 

“On your left!” he warned, sinking down, putting down his shoulder and using the asshole's momentum to throw him up and over onto the ground, knocking the air out of him. A shiny dress shoe came down on the guy’s throat. Nice. 

With a second pair of hands, they got the group down and then on the run as Gavin reached into his to fish out his cell. 

“No need, Detective,” his new friend said calmly. “I have already called in the incident.” 

“Oh yeah,” he turned on his heel, the street light painting stripes over them both. “Thanks for the help.” 

He was aware that there was blood on his teeth, but he grinned anyway, feeling feral and heated. As soon as the adrenaline faded, he was probably fucked, but right now he felt high as a kite. 

“You are welcome,” a tilt of the head. A circle of blue. A shift of feet and the light striped more plainly over him. 

“Ah, shit,” he muttered to himself. “Where the fuck did you come from?” 

Connor looked blandly at him, “From down the street.” 

“I thought you and Anderson were sucking each other’s dicks somewhere in Canada.” 

“Not Connor, Detective. I am RK900. Connor is currently on vacation with his partner. They are intended to return in five days. And I can’t comment on the status of their respective genitals.”

“...right,” all at once Gavin was acutely aware that his head hurt and all parts of his body were starting to report in that they’d been banged around. “Shit.” 

“The nearest patrol car will take nine minutes to arrive,” RK900 turned towards the building. “None of your injuries should require a hospital.” 

“Fuck hospitals,” Gavin said vaguely. His buzz had been murdered, the clear night air was now the wrong side of cold. 

“Come inside then, Connor keeps the first aid kit stocked.” 

“This isn’t Anderson’s neighborhood,” Gavin followed after RK900 anyway. The promise of not having to deal with paramedics was too tempting. “Thought they were living together.” 

“They are. But they agreed not to have their office run out of the house,” RK900 opened a side door that led up a narrow staircase that must’ve gone over the shop on the ground floor. 

Right. Anderson could’ve retired two years ago, crossing the desired twenty-five year line with no fanfare. Water cooler gossip had been he was hanging on so he wouldn’t do something stupid. So it hadn’t been that surprising when the dust had settled that the man had finally handed over his badge. Even if it was only to start up his own consulting agency with the smug piece of plastic he called a partner. The force liaised with them on android involved cases. 

“And what, you’re their admin assistant?” 

“No,” RK900 hit a light switch. The office was small, surprisingly tidy. Professional looking. Someone had hung up one of those soulless art prints that was mostly pastel colors swished around. The only trace that Anderson had ever set foot in the place was the bobblehead doll of a dog perched on the corner of one of the two neat desks. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered to himself. “This looks like a fucking Hilton lobby.” 

“I’ve been told it puts clients at ease,” RK900 went to a cabinet, pulling down a white box. 

“Sure, people love boring shit,” he sat down heavily in one of the chairs that was probably intended for clients. It was comfortable enough. 

RK900 moved with a stiff precision that Gavin hadn’t seen in months. Since the uprising, it was becoming harder and harder to tell androids from humans. They'd learned fast how to blend in, the lights from their temples discarded for good. RK900’s still pulsed softly blue, that telltale sign in the dark. 

A bottle of water arrived in his field of vision, he seized on it, gulping it down then taking a mouthful to swish around, clearing the blood. Running a tongue over his teeth proved to find no fresh looseness. 

“They split your lip,” RK900 blinked slowly, “bruised two ribs and you will have many bruises. Your knuckles are split. You don’t have a concussion, but I suspect you will still have a headache.” 

Painkillers were produced from the box, then antiseptic wipes and bandages. Gavin took them and found to his displeasure that his hands were shaking. Fucking adrenaline. 

“Thanks,” he said roughly and ripped open the first wipe. 

“You’re welcome.” The android didn’t move, still standing only a bare foot away, looming over him. 

“Wanna back up there?” he grimaced. “Or is this your night’s entertainment.” 

“The fight was interesting,” RK900 didn’t move. “Perhaps that was my night’s entertainment.” 

“Glad to provide.” 

“I think it would have happened without your presence, Detective. You were unfortunate enough to walk by at the wrong moment. “ 

That jived with what Gavin had noticed, “Coincidence is a bitch.” 

“Connor was concerned there would be a break-in attempt,” there was a soft hum, RK900’s LED circled to yellow for a brief moment before returning to benign blue. 

“Wait, you think I interrupted a B and E?”

“It seems likely. I identified the assailants as matches to the case. Connor was unable to provide details due to the NDA that they have with the police department, but they might think there was some evidence of criminal activity here.” 

“Great,” he ruthlessly scrubbed the wipe over his knuckles. Dozens of hairline scars lay underneath, a few more wouldn’t matter. “I’ll probably be dragged into bullshit about overstepping because I was drunk in the wrong place. Can’t wait.” 

“There is no reason anyone should know you were there,” the android said after a short pause. “I did not specify the victim’s identity when I contacted the police.” 

“Why not? They’d probably step on the gas a little.” 

“We had it under control,” was the placid reply. 

And yeah, they had hadn’t they? 

“So what I leave and you’ve got some nice blackmail material on me?”

RK900 sat down beside him. Up close, it was much clearer that he wasn’t Connor. His eyes were entirely different, grey and sharper. Taller, broader and there was something about the curve of his mouth that suggested it was faster to frown than smile. “You aided me in turning away thieves. Helping you with some paperwork and a misplaced disciplinary action seems like fair payment.” 

Gavin stared at him. RK900 looked forward, giving nothing away. 

“If you’re lying...” 

“Please enlighten me,” there was something amused there, “Connor told me that your threats are interesting.” 

“He...” Fuck. 

“He also said that you hated androids. He has frequently used you as an educational example of the type of person to avoid.” 

Gavin looked back at his bloody knuckles. He undid a bandage from it’s packaging and smoothed it around the worst of the scrapes. 

“Took the mandated training or I wouldn’t still have my badge,” he shrugged. 

“Studies have shown that sensitivity trainings alone are not generally effective for those with entrenched beliefs. But the news has reported a loss of twenty percent of the police force in the last eight months. Some of those never returned from evacuation, others chose early retirement. But many-” 

“Maybe I just like being a cop more than I hate androids,” Gavin said roughly. 

The sirens wailed in the distance. RK900 stood up, one fluid inhuman movement. 

“They will not come inside, if you would like to stay. Otherwise you are welcome to join me downstairs.” 

There were enough marks on his record and he’d soured enough stomachs that even with an eyewitness, he’d definitely be called up for ‘interfering with an ongoing investigation’. He didn’t want to get suspended, especially when it wasn’t actually his fault this time. 

He stayed in the office. Finished cleaning up as well as he could with the offered supplies and then restlessly got to his feet. Paced around and out of sheer spite, sat in Anderson’s office chair. That close he could see other small personal touches. An old photo of Cole (Gavin had gone to the funeral, not because they’d been close back then but because it had only felt right for them all to go. A wall of blue uniforms at the back of a black mass of sorrow. Afterwards, he and a few others had gotten blindingly drunk, a few people weeping openly in the dark bar.) was stuck into the corner of the monitor. A more recent picture was framed and set to one side. Connor was on a boat, his usual suit discarded in favor of a t-shirt and jeans. There was wind in his hair and he was holding onto a railing with both hands. 

He was smiling, broad and untouchable. Frozen in happiness. 

“Fuck,” Gavin said again to himself. “You asshole.” 

Connor’s desk was even more sparse, but he did also have a picture. A matching frame to Anderson’s with a dog taking up most of the picture. The dog was sitting on Anderson, who looked like he was laughing. 

Just fuck the both of them, Gavin decided. With this prissy clean office and their garishly smiling photos. His ribs hurt and he wanted his night back. Instead, he wound up on his phone, watching movie trailers. 

“The patrol car has left,” RK900 announced. 

Only from long practice did Gavin keep his composure and not jump straight off his seat. 

“Good,” he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m going home.” 

“I took the liberty of calling you a cab. It will be here in less than two minutes.” 

“Oh,” he got to his feet. He didn’t live far from here, had been planning to walk, but a ride suddenly sounded perfect. His body ached. 

They both went back down the stairs. RK900 apparently locking up as he went. 

“Not worried about another attempt?” 

“I live close by. The security system will alert me as it did last time if something occurs.” 

“Renting?” That seemed impossible. It was one thing to say something was human, it was a whole other thing to make it legally so. Not many landlords were eager to rent to androids. 

“Subletting,” RK900 sounded faintly amused by the idea. 

Gavin’s head throbbed, “With what money?” 

“I have a job.” 

“Doing what?” 

The cab was sliding down the street, driverless and silent on the pavement as the android had been on the stairs. 

“I am a social worker with Children’s Protective Services,” there was a slight hesitancy there. But pride too. 

“Huh.” The cab came to a stop, the door sliding open. 

“Good night, Detective.” RK900 turned on his heels and walked away, leaving Gavin to bend himself painfully into the car without a witness. 

The whole building seemed to be asleep when he reached home. Quiet doors with no light slithering through. He'd thought about moving a few times since he’d made detective. He could afford somewhere a little more lively, but it’d be hard to find something with a decent kitchen that allowed pets. 

Caro was perched on the back of the couch as he entered, in blissfully deep sleep. Her ears twitched when he closed the door, but otherwise she didn’t acknowledge him. He didn’t turn on his own lights. Just shucked off what he was wearing, threw most of it in the laundry and crawled into bed without turning on the lights. Tomorrow was his day off and he’d earned some sleep. 

When he got back to work, he braced himself for confrontation. Nothing came. Whatever else RK900 was, he was an android of his word apparently. After a day of icing his lip, a careful application of concealer, and a fuck off attitude, no one asked him what had happened to his face. 

A new homicide case landed in his lap and he spent most of the next two weeks mainlining coffee, chain smoking and doing paperwork. Most of being a detective had turned out to be making phone calls and keeping meticulous paperwork.

Gavin liked paperwork. He would never ever let this slip to the world, but it was what kept him employed. It was fun to run around like a maniac and question people, of course. Not how cases got made though. It was taking in everything beat cops brought in from door-knockings and interviews and reading it. Listening to hundreds of phone tips, shifting through them like a prospector looking for gold. Finding patterns in the data. Gavin was good at patterns. 

He found the repeated phone calls to a florist. A boyfriend on the side. A jealous husband. Old story, new evidence. It was, demented as it might sound, soothing. People were predictable in their own ways, treading the same paths every day and leaving behind detritus. He had one of the highest clearance rates in the department, one of the few reasons he was tolerated if not appreciated. 

“Good job,” Fowler said shortly when he gave his report. 

The words were a panacea, but he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead he gave a tight nod and went on to the next case. 

Sometime in there, Anderson wandered in with Connor at his side. They stopped to chat at a few desks before closing themselves in with the team investigating a string of thefts of android parts from one of the less reputable chop shops that had popped up recently. The case looked interesting, tricky, but Gavin didn’t ask to join the team. 

“Detective?” He’d seen Connor coming, but was still surprised when he stopped at his desk. 

“What?” he bit off. 

“My brother asked me to say hello if I saw you,” Connor said stiffly, clearly displeased with this assignment. “And to ensure that you were in good health.” 

He opened his mouth then shut it again. After a moment, he just gestured sarcastically at himself which he meant more as a ‘I’m clearly fine’, but realized too late Connor would just take an invitation to scan him. 

“I see you have healed, I will let him know,” a crisp nod, a turn on his heel. 

“Uh,” don’t do it, he chastised himself, but still he blurted, “just...uh, tell him hi back.” 

“I will,” Connor’s mouth flat-lined and then he was gone.

“Hi back,” he muttered and dropped his face into his hands. Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

It was six more weeks before he had to think about any of that embarrassing shit again. Tina’s birthday fell in there and they got wasted on her apartment floor with her girlfriend and one of the rookies that was actually pretty decent. He played a few games of basketball with some randos in the park and liked them enough to make plans to play again. 

The world went on spinning. People went on killing each other. 

On week seven, Gavin went into a scene that had already been thoroughly picked apart and scanned with in an inch of his life. Technically, he never had to set foot in it to take the lead on the investigation, but that had never sat right with him. He liked to see things in person, get the smell of them, however awful, in his nose. 

“Looks pretty cut and dry,” the rookie from Tina’s party was there. Edison or something. “There's been a lot disturbance called in before. Fight got out of hand this time.” 

“Mm,” Gavin listened with half an ear. Here was where the body was found, already whisked away. This was where the shoving had started before the gun was drawn, chairs tipped over. He started making notes. There was no such thing as too much evidence. 

He was halfway through writing when he heard a faint sound. 

“Who else is on scene?” he frowned. 

“It’s just us,” Edmund-maybe glanced around. “Why?”

Gavin put his hand to his hip and made for the stairs. He moved quietly, listening intently. There was no follow up sound, but he’d heard what he’d heard. He walked into the main bedroom. The woman who would never sleep in the bed again had left it unmade. It was right above the kitchen. 

He crouched down slowly and lifted the frilly piece of cloth that hung from bed to floor. 

Two wet eyes looked back at him. 

Fuck. He dropped his hand away from his gun. 

“My name is Gavin, I’m a police officer,” he said as quietly as he could. “Everything is safe now, want to come out?” 

The child was a little older than he’d thought. They slid their hand into Gavin’s when he offered it. 

“What’s your name?” 

The kid looked at the floor, so quiet he was only sure they were alive by the rapid rise and fall of their chest. 

“You want something to eat?” 

They wound up sitting in his car while they waited for social services. The kid still wasn't talking, but they were wrapped up in his spare DPD windbreaker and had accepted his meager offering of a KitKat and a Gatorade. He’d already whisper-yelled at the rookie (Eugene apparently) which was going to get repeated to anyone who set foot on the damn scene. The kid had been there for hours. Worthless, all of them. 

“You like Wonder Dogs?” Gavin asked as the silence stretched. 

The kid nodded a little. It’d been an easy guess, the dog on the t-shirt recognizable to anyone who sometimes had to buy presents for nephews. 

“Who’s your favorite?” 

“Mutton,” the kid practically whispered. 

“She’s the one with super strength right?” 

A nod. 

“I like the one that can go invisible. What’s his name...” 

“Bentley,” the kid offered. 

“Right, thanks, he’s pretty cool.” 

He managed to keep the kid talking about the show until someone finally knocked on his window. He rolled it down, staring down the rookie. 

“Social services is here. They said they’ll evaluate the kid tomorrow morning and bring them in for questioning if they’re up for it.” 

“Fine,” he turned to the kid, “your ride is here, kiddo. You ready?” 

They nodded and reluctantly got out of the car. 

RK900 was a few feet behind them, standing next to a familiar old car. Did the android bum Anderson’s ride? 

“Good evening, detective.” 

“Uh sure, what’re you doing here?” 

RK900 lifted his eyebrows a bare fraction, but Gavin could hear the ‘what do you think, Sherlock’ like it was on a megaphone.

“Okay, right. Is there paperwork or something?” he hadn’t been directly involved in overseeing a custody transfer in years. 

There was no answer. RK900 was crouching down in front of the child, holding his hand out solemnly, 

“Good evening. I’m RK900,” his expression was the same still seriousness he seemed to wear perpetually. “I heard you’ve had a rough day.” 

The kid stared at him and reached up to take Gavin’s hand again. 

“He’s okay, kiddo,” Gavin frowned. “It’s okay. There’s a warm bed waiting for you, huh?” 

“Mrs. Amanski will be watching you tonight,” RK900 held out his hand, “she wants to know if you would prefer pancakes or waffles for dinner.” 

The kid shrank closer to Gavin’s side. RK900 nodded, “Do you have something in the house that you would like?” 

After a pause, the kid nodded. 

“Was it under the bed with you?” Gavin guessed. The kid nodded again. 

“Would it be possible to retrieve, detective? I know it is still a crime scene.” 

“Yeah, I think we can make an exception,” he cleared his throat. 

The kid parted from him fast with that promise. He went back into the house, ignoring the rookie’s questioning look. With a second, better look, he could maybe get why no one had been looking for another person in the house. There were no toys around, no kid’s bedroom. Just a sleeping bag tucked away under a desk in the bedroom someone used as an office. Circling back to the main bedroom, he fished around under the bed until a well loved stuffed animal found its way into his hands. 

A cat maybe, with one ear clearly favored with all the fur worn away. 

He’d had a bear like that. Once, a long time ago. Allie had had her blankie, trailing behind her for far too many years. He’d text her tonight, he decided. No matter how late it was. Just...just to check. On her. The boys. 

“Look who I found,” he said with forced joviality when he got back to the cars. The kid had unwound a little, poking at RK900’s LED which pulsed a calm blue. When they spotted the stuffed cat they reached out for it, clutching it to their chest. 

“Good news,” RK900 said quietly, “this is Peggy Ann Dermott. Her mother has been located in California and is trying to get a flight home now. The suspect is Peggy Ann’s father. He is the non-custodial parent. Her mother’s mother became ill suddenly and he had offered to take Peggy Ann for a few days while she visited her in the hospital.” 

Gavin felt like he could breath again. Fucked up shit happened all the time. And sure the kid would probably still be traumatized within an inch of her life, but she wasn’t going into the system. There was someone who cared about her out there and coming. 

“Can I go home?” Peggy Ann asked quietly. 

“Not tonight, but your mother will be here by tomorrow night,” RK900 assured her. “So you will stay with Mrs. Amanski for tonight.” 

Peggy Ann shifted and Gavin felt her hand slide into his again, "Can I stay with him?"

“I’m afraid the Detective is not a registered foster parent,” RK900 frowned. “But perhaps he could come with us to Mrs. Amanski’s home.” 

There were other things Gavin needed to do, pretty urgently. He had to update all the paperwork, notify Fowler that the case had a minor witness. But...the rookie could do some of that. It’d probably be good for him. 

The rest meant a late night into early morning time at the station. Another sleepless night down the line.

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

They sat together in the back of RK900’s car. She held his hand silently through the entire drive. The house was on a quiet street, not too different from the one they’d just left. An older, soft looking woman was waiting in the driveway and RK900 got out to speak with her. 

“Listen, it’s just one night,” Gavin watched Mrs Armanski touch RK900’s elbow. She seemed fine. But they all seemed fine at first. “Just be polite, keep your head down and don’t argue, okay?” 

“Okay,” Peggy said in a whisper, glancing at him. 

“You’ll be okay, kiddo. I’ll see you again after your mom gets you.” 

“Promise?” 

“Yeah, I promise,” it would be in a playroom at social services with a list of questions she probably wouldn’t be able to answer. 

He walked her into the house. There was a hot meal waiting for her as promised. Reluctantly she gave up his hand in favor of eating, allowing Mrs Armanski to distract her with questions about her bedtime routine. 

As soon as he got back to the car, he lit up one of his last cigarettes. He leaned against the car, feeling about three million years old. 

“Thank you for your help, Detective.” 

“Just get me back to my car,” he ground the butt under his heel. 

Silence. Gavin heaved a sigh and looked up. RK900 was not invading his private space, but he wasn’t far enough away either. Hovering there, bland expression unreadable in the near dark. 

“What?” he barked when the silence stretched out. 

“Will you be able to give her interview? I have scheduled it for Thursday at 3PM.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he got out his phone and made a note in the calendar. “It’s my case.” 

He had the uneasy sense that that hadn’t been what RK900 had been about to say. There was something unspoken in the air that he didn’t like. The night pushed down on him though and he got in the passenger seat without asking. Phone still in his hand, he shot off a message, 

_hey, you good?_

_good_ Allie wrote back after a minute. _you?_

_shitty._

_got an appt this week?_

_yeah, won’t miss_

_k. Call if you need._

He didn’t respond, staring down at the words. Words she never would’ve written a year ago. The shuffling steps of progress that made his chest ache.

“How does an android wind up a social worker?” he asked instead of letting it echo in his head. 

“I was woken up too late,” RK900 sounded...wry maybe? Regretful? His whole job was reading people and he still couldn’t do it worth a damn with an android. “My intended purpose was no longer of use. Connor allowed me to work with him for a time as we have similar skills. One of our cases involved a child.” 

The explanation, previously clipping along at even pace, came to a stop. 

Gavin watched the streetlights. He was too tired to prod, to draw him out. Luckily the android restarted on his own, hands at an even ten and two on the steering wheel. 

“I was able to aid in the case. Like the police force, social services are understaffed currently. I interned while I completed my coursework.” 

“So that took what? A day?” 

“I was required to attend several classes in person. I completed my master’s several months ago.”

“Not a lot of android kiddie cases.” 

“I do not specialize,” and that came out a little brusque. “Children are children. They are vulnerable in all forms. Perhaps it was not what my makers intended, but protecting the vulnerable is my primary purpose. Is that not why you joined the police?” 

“No,” Gavin looked back down at his phone. 

“No?” 

“Cops don’t need a college education. You get a regular salary at the jump. Get some respect for the uniform.” 

The first time he’d been able to pick Allie from middle school in uniform, he’d almost been lightheaded with pride. He’d been such a rookie, taking every shitty shift and patrol, but back then he’d never complained. Felt lucky to be there. 

“I see. And why do you stay?” 

“What else am I gonna do? I’ll put in my twenty-five and then see.” 

Like he wasn’t a lifer and everyone knew it. He’d die entombed in manila folders and empty pens. They pulled in behind his car. The crime scene house was dark now. Caution tape lined the porch. 

A square of paper appeared in the corner of his vision, he took it automatically before taking it in. 

“What the fuck?” 

“In case you need to reach me ahead of the interview.” 

It was a generic business card. The Detroit flat in one corner, the name of the office across the top. The general contact information. And in the bottom left corner...

“I thought you went by your serial number.” 

“Much the way you go by detective,” and there was amusement again, he thought. “I prefer formality. But a name is...good.” 

“Nines is barely a name,” he said dismissively, shoving the card into his pocket. “And who even has business cards these days.” 

“Have a good night, Detective,” and was the damn thing smiling ever so faintly? “I’m glad we ran into each other again, despite the circumstances of our meeting.” 

Gavin launched himself out of the car. It was too hot and small all of a sudden. He walked to his car head down, but at the last moment he looked up. In the soft street light, he saw a hand raise up. The barest movement of fingers. Automatically he waved back and got into his car. 

He fell asleep on the couch that night, cat laid out on the arm behind his head. The television was on, some infomercial lady’s voice punctuating his restless dreams. 

On Thursday, he drove down to a satellite office of social services and was led to the dismal ‘playroom’ with it’s two way mirror and faded primary colors. Peggy Ann was sitting on the floor, next to a woman that must be her mother. They were talking quietly and playing a board game. Gavin watched them through the glass, organizing questions in his head. 

“Good afternoon, detective,” Nines came down the hall, holding a clipboard. He looked like he’d just stepped out of dry cleaner’s wet dream, crisp and clean. 

“Hey,” Gavin rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, suddenly desperate for a smoke.

“Thank you for coming.” 

“Literally my job.” 

“I’ll get Mrs Dermott, she wanted to speak to you before the interview.” 

He nodded folding his arms over his chest. The woman emerged and inside, Nines sat down on the floor next to Peggy Ann. 

“Detective Reed?” Mrs Dermott was a small woman, swamped in fabric. Her eyes were around the edges. 

“Yes?” 

“I wanted to say thank you,” she said in a rush. “For finding her. I can’t imagine how scary it was for her and you...thank you.” 

“They should’ve found her before,” he said gruffly. 

Her arms went around him and he was so startled he almost pushed her off. Instead he dropped his arms and very gently pat her on the back. He didn’t do this part. Not usually. Sometimes with a victim’s family if they were unfortunate to still be around by the time he was called in. Otherwise it was words across a cold metal table in a station with a lawyer like a wall between them. 

“I have to ask her a few things.” 

“I know,” she sniffed, pulling away and taking a deep breath. “All right.” 

There were chairs, but Peggy Ann and Nines were already on the floor. Gavin sighed, and folded down across from them. Mrs Dermott sat a little behind, but in Peggy Ann’s line of sight. 

“Remember me, kiddo?”

“Yes,” she swiped a hair out of her eyes. “Mama said we’re gonna talk.” 

“Yeah, I want to ask you some things about the night I found you.” 

“Okay.” 

It went...fine. She didn’t see much. Had been asleep when it started and familiar with her father’s temper. When she’d realized how bad the fight was, she’d gotten under the bed and stayed there. The police stomping around the house had scared her too. She thought they’d arrest her. 

Not much use to the case. 

He was so fucking relieved. She hadn’t watched it happen, wouldn’t have that trauma on top of everything else. 

“You’ve been a big help,” he assured her. He reached into his jacket pocket. “Found this last night when I was cleaning my room.” 

He extended to her a large sticker of Mutton. He’d seen it in the corner store when he stopped to get a fresh pack and figured it couldn’t hurt. She took it with a shy smile. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he mustered a returning grin. “Stay safe, okay?” 

He started to stand up and realized with chagrin that one of his feet had fallen asleep tucked up under his thigh for so long. A hand appeared in front of him. Reluctantly, he took it. Nines skin was warm and as human as could be faked. God, that was still fucking weird. He was strong too, easily drawing Gavin to his feet without any apparent effort. It brought him too close. He could see the strands of blue weaving into the grey out of the dark pupil of his eyes. 

“I’ve sent you the video file I took of the interview,” Nines seemed unperturbed by their sudden proximity. “As well as the consent form from Mrs Dermott for the filming.” 

“It seems straight forward,” he took a step back, withdrawing his hand. “I don’t know how much we’ll need from her. Seems like the asshole’s lawyer is going to go for a plea deal. He’ll get twenty years to life most likely.” 

“At least he won’t be able to further effect his daughter’s life,” Nines gave a very soft, very human sigh. 

“It won’t stop just because he’s out of sight,” he shoved his hands in his coat pocket. 

“She has been offered a full course of therapeutic treatment here. Hopefully that will be of some help. May I walk you out, detective?” 

He didn’t answer and Nines seemed to take that as a yes. The hallways were warrens and it wasn’t such a bad thing to have a guide. They didn’t speak until they reached the front door. 

“Detective,” Nines began, then paused. 

“What?” 

“Would you be willing to be put on our backup list for police contacts? Children’s services has a few regular liaisons, but Detective Martinez will be out on maternity leave soon. They haven’t given us a dependable substitute and you were very good with Peggy Ann. I know it would be your supervisors decision ultimately, but it would be easier if you were willing.” 

He should say no. Just today had made him tired and raw. 

But Nines was just looking at him with this weight of expectation. And if he didn't, who would? 

“Yeah, fine.” 

“Excellent, thank you.” 

He didn’t even say goodbye, chased out of the building by his own bad decisions. 

On Friday morning, bright and early, he walked the ten blocks (away from the precinct, as far as he could find while not being totally inconvenient) and took an elevator in a pristine building (not on his insurance because than HR would know and that would do him no favors) to the fifteenth floor. Fifth door on the right. 

The waiting room had three chairs and he’d never sat in any of them. He was the first appointment of the day (too early really, but enough time after to get to work without taking any sick time). 

The office was nice. Wood and leather instead of chrome and glass. Dr. Baraket was already comfortable in his arm chair. He was a heavy guy, bald and dark skinned with round glasses. He felt substantial. Like the room mattered more because he was in it. 

“Hello, Gavin,” a small notebook was set aside. Dr. Baraket didn’t take notes during sessions. Gavin had liked that too. 

“Hey, doc,” he sat down heavily on the other armchair. 

“How was your week?” 

“I made a mistake,” he said immediately. Often he planned his opener on the way to the office. He probably wasn’t supposed to. Rehearsing it made it easier to talk. Their first few sessions he’d sat silent, words stuck in him until they were drawn out painfully. 

“Tell me about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

When he finished the cliff notes version of his week, Dr. Baraket was looking at him with that distant thoughtfulness that seemed to pervade their sessions. 

“And where was the mistake?” He asked at last.

“I dunno, all of it? I shouldn’t have agreed to work with kids.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I’ll fuck it up!” he clenched his hands together. 

“You seemed to do well this time.” 

“I can’t- what if it’s just too much? Kid cases are rough and it reminds me...” 

“How did you feel after you helped Peggy Ann? Did you drink? Go out and pick a fight?” 

Gavin shook his head. He was new to processing his own feelings. New to thinking it mattered as long as he was getting through the day. 

“I felt weird,” he ventured, "kind of embarrassed.” 

“What embarrassed you?” 

“I dunno,” he frowned turning the incident over and over. “I guess that someone else saw me. Like. I know it wasn’t wrong but...” 

“You were being vulnerable. For however short a time.” 

Vulnerable. At no time had he been in any danger. All he did was hold a little girl’s hand, but...yeah that felt exposed. 

“That was one of the things my Dad hated,” he recalled, the memory surfacing like a bubble in a pond. “Fuck. I used to hold Allie’s hand when things were bad because she’d be scared. I was supposed to be too old to do that shit.” 

“Do you think that’s true?” 

He looked out the window over Dr. Baraket’s shoulder, “I...no. No that’s bullshit, right? I mean she was a kid and I was...I was a kid too.” 

“Even if you weren’t a child. If your friend Tina was upset, would you hold her hand?” 

“Yeah,” he said roughly. “We’d probably tell jokes about, but yeah, I would.” 

“So perhaps there is no age where it’s inappropriate or wrong.”

“What if I fuck it up? Like I fucked up with Allie?” 

“It’s possible you will. But I think you knew that when you agreed. So why did you agree?” 

“Because no one else at the station has the training. Me included, but at least I know, right? What if they just sent one of those guys that had a happy go lucky childhood and he tells these kids to like think happy thoughts or some bullshit?” 

“So you agreed because you think you would do a good job.” 

“Better than some.”

“Mmhm,” Dr. Baraket leaned forward. “And what about the person that asked you? Why do you think he did so?” 

“I mean he said it was because I did an okay job,” he could see Nines’ face, solemn and clear. 

“And do you think he was lying?” 

“No,” he said instinctively. “I mean I don’t know, I can’t read an android face worth a damn, but he didn’t lie about not reporting me in for the fight.” 

“And do you think you can work with him?” 

Gavin rubbed his hands over his jeans, letting them absorb the sweat, “Yeah. I mean...yeah. He’s just a person, right?” 

“You tell me, Gavin.” 

“I’ve been practicing like we talked about,” he said softly. “I go to that corner store with the android cashier. Make small talk. Took Caro to the vet that’s got an android assistant and stuff.” 

“And?” 

“And I guess it’s just something I’m still working on.” 

“Well, it looks like this is a good chance to work on it. Having an android colleague.” 

“Sure," he said quickly, too clipped. 

“He is a colleague correct?”

“I-” he buried his face in his hands, "I guess so.” 

"You guess?" 

"I don't- he's kind of...nice." 

That sat heavy in the air for a long moment. 

“You know what I think?”

“I pay you to tell me what you think,” he tried not to snap, but he was fraying a little now. The admission untethering him. 

“I think that this is a good chance for you practice something else.” 

“What’s that?” he dropped his hands. Dr. Baraket was leveling him with an even gaze. 

“Being vulnerable. And listening to someone else when they’re feeling that way. Build a new relationship, whatever that looks like.” 

“Androids aren’t vulnerable,” he said automatically. 

“Do you believe that? Really?” 

He thought about Nines, hands perfect on the steering wheel as he stopped in the middle of his story about becoming a social worker. The valley of missing information in the pause. 

“No.” 

“Then why not try?” 

“What if he doesn’t want...or I can’t...” 

“Rejection is hard, but you’ve lived through harder. Just make an effort, Gavin. See what happens.” 

Make an effort. He thought about it as he walked back to the apartment to pick up his car. He thought about it through the morning while he filled out paperwork on Dermott case and over lunch which he ate alone at his desk. What did an effort even look like? 

“Reed, my office,” Fowler called him over the intercom. 

“Yes, captain?” he stepped inside, closing the door. 

“Take a seat.” 

He sat. “I submitted the updates on the Dermott case. Looks like the plea deal is going forward.” 

“Good,” Folwer shifted in his seat, the chair squawking. He’d had the same chair since Gavin was a rookie. “I got a call about you from children’s services. They’re requesting you as a temp replacement while Martinez is on maternity leave.” 

He grunted noncommittally, not sure how to play this. 

“Specifically requested you. I pointed out that you weren’t trained to work with traumatized children and it was rudely pointed out to me that we don’t have anyone else in the precinct specifically trained for it,” a gusty sigh sailed over the desk. “Apparently, someone liked something they saw in you. There’s no time for a complete training, but there’s an three day online course that should give you the basics.” 

“Oh,” he hadn’t considered that. He wasn’t a big fan of classwork. 

“Reed, I’ll be honest, I don’t know what to make of it. You’ve barely completed every sensitivity training we’ve ever sent you to. You make a point of pissing off your co-workers, and generally trying to convince everyone you're the biggest hard ass going. I’ve never seen you give the time of day to a kid. What am I missing?” 

“I’m not heartless,” he’d meant to say it calmly, but his therapy session was still rattling around in his mind. It came out too soft. Too clearly a wound. 

“Never said you were,” the captain gave him an even more intense look. That Gavin could return. He was good in a stare down. “Fine. We’ll pay for the online training. I can’t afford to lessen your caseload, but you did good with delegating to Eugene the other day.” 

“He’s okay,” Gavin allowed. The paperwork the rookie had filed had been decent enough. 

“Fine, I’ll let him know he’s backing you up in case you get called in. Martinez will get you up to speed on anything current.” 

“Sounds good,” he got up to go, recognizing a dismissall when he heard one. 

“And Reed?” Fowler stopped him at the door. 

“Sir?” 

“I don’t know where this attitude came from, but find a way to keep it. I’ve got a sergeant spot opening up in the next few months with Lou’s retirement. The exam sits in February.” 

Sergeant. He’d been lucky to make detective an everyone knew it. No one wanted Asshole Reed supervising them. He let the door close behind him, a queasiness lodging in his stomach. 

Martinez approached his desk a mere half hour after his meeting with Fowler. Gavin knew her by sight. She had a reputation as a slow walker and talker, rarely able to be rushed. Right now, she was also enormously pregnant making her usually languid pace even more marked. She eventually settled in the chair on the other side of his desk, after he’d unceremoniously dropped the folders decorating it back onto his desk. 

“I’m glad they found someone,” she led with. Her hands folded over the swell of her stomach, barely contained by the sized up uniform shirt. “I really thought they might just shove in a rookie to sink or swim.” 

“It’s everyone’s lucky day,” he said, the edge of sarcasm sneaking in without his permission. Martinez seemed unphased. 

“There’s a lot of pending cases. I’ve transferred everything to your drive,” she waved vaguely at her computer. “But most of them probably won’t move forward in the next few months. I’ve got a few repeat runaways...” 

She gave him the overview of frequent fliers. The majority of the calls she went out on were DV cases. She was there to talk to the kids, oversee transfer to social services as required, and remove them from situations if social services couldn't get there in time when things were heated. Sometimes she was called in just to stand behind social workers with her badge clearly evident to make sure a situation didn’t go south. 

“And you still do regular patrols?” he asked in disbelief as she wound down. 

She laughed, tired and raw, “Sure. I get some overtime here and there, but...I don’t know, detective. I used to just be a junior member in a department of four and now it’s only me.” 

“I get that,” he admitted wearily. Homicide had been well-staffed two years ago. Now it was him, and two other detectives, one who had come out of retirement to help with the shortage. “When are you due?” 

“Two weeks, give or take. My side of the family has late babies,” she shrugged. “So could be a little longer.” 

He started the online class that night even though he was technically off duty. Caro came to sit down beside him on the couch and he mindlessly pet her as he tried to absorb what he could. 

“Fuck,” he dropped his head against the back of the couch after two hours. 

There was a gym in the basement of his building, poorly kept up, but not many other people bothered with it. He went down and put in his time, sweating and letting music drawn out the thoughts that threatened to flood in. 

A shower. Bed. Wakeup, breakfast with the laptop open trying to fit in another few minutes before he was on his way to work. He re-listened to the parts he’d already down the night before as he filled out the last of the paperwork on two of his closed cases from the month before. 

“Detective Reed?” Eugene approached his desk. “I’m on patrol soon, anything you need me to take care of before I head out?” 

Wasn’t that a fucking thrill? He sent him on his way with a fresh upload to his tablet to start reviewing open cases. 

“What was that about?” Tina sat on the edge of his desk. “You got a lackey now?” 

“Yeah, I’m a very important man.” 

She snorted and he gave her a tired grin, “Guess the news went around already.” 

“Sure, everyone thinks you’re being punished, you know.” 

“I’m not.” 

“I know,” she poked him in the shin with the toe of her boot. “You're up for it, right?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Gavin.” 

“Tina.” 

“Fine, be that way. Come around for dinner Sunday, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m on call though.” 

“We’ll just feed your portion to the dog if you no show.” 

“Are you the one cooking? Might be the best destination. Nice dog though, be a shame to see him go.” 

She kicked him again, both of them laughing. 

“Seriously though.” she got to her feet, “I want to hear about how this happened.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he allowed. 

The course went on. All told he listened to the whole thing through twice and nearly killed off an entire legal paid with notes. His head was swimming. A lot of it felt like common sense or aligned with things he’d already learned by being a working officer. Some of it brought him to a place in his head he didn’t like going. 

“I volunteered” he finally said to Tina on Sunday night after they’d all eaten and her girlfriend, Iris, had gone into the kitchen to load the dishwasher. “I mean. I was asked. I said yes.” 

"Didn't think anything else,” she leaned into him, not close enough to touch. “You can lead a Gavin to water, but you can’t make him do anything but piss in it if he’s not in the mood.” 

“Fuck off,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Have you told Allie?” 

“We’re not there yet,” he frowned down into his beer bottle. 

“You’re coming to friendsgiving, right?” she filled into the silence. “Your mashed potatoes were the only thing that saved it last year.” 

“I’m going to come here and stand over you while you make the fucking turkey if that’s what I have to do to get a decent piece of poultry this year.” 

He hadn’t been invited to his sister’s table in four years. The first year he’d spent alone, staring at his phone, thinking that maybe his invitation was still coming. A last minute realization of omission. When he accepted it wasn’t coming, he got blackout drunk. Now he was the mashed potato guy for lonely rookies that Tina rounded up every year and some of Iris' co-workers. 

His youngest nephew’s birthday was in January. Allie had already invited him to celebrate it. It was an unspoken scraping off the possibility of holidays, but it was still an olive branch and he’d seized on it hard. 

“Why not?” she grinned. “Come on over early and you can take over turkey duty once and for all.” 

On Tuesday, he got an email that made his breath stop in his throat. Martinez had given birth to a bouncing baby in the wee hours of the morning. She was officially on maternity leave. 

“Shit.” 

He wasn’t ready. He fumbled out his phone, then stared at the live screen. What was he going to do? Change his mind? Run? It was what it was now. 

Vulnerable. He felt that right now. Rubbed raw and unprepared. 

Dr. Baraket wanted him to practice. 

He found the card still in his jacket pocket, it’s edges tattered. He spread it carefully flat against the desk and entered the number into his contacts. After a few stumbling tries, he sent a text. 

_Martinez gave birth last night. I’m on duty. With three days of training from a recording._

Nines responded back lightening fast. Of course he did. His phone was in his brain for fuck’s sake. 

_Thank you for notifying me. If you require more material, I could provide you with a reading list. I also have a few hard copy texts from my coursework._

Old Gavin flared up in him briefly, angry at the offer. He tamped it down. Took a deep breath. Grateful for the distance of a text. 

_I’ll take whatever you’ve got._

_I’m working in the field this morning, but we could meet for lunch._

_What’s in it for you or are you so advanced you can chow down?_

_My supervisor requires me to take a lunch break in compliance with state employment law. It would be more interesting to speak with you then simply waiting until I’m allowed to return to work._

Gavin remembered feeling that way as a rookie. Like every second spent scoffing down a sandwich was time he could’ve been getting something important done. Maybe Nines was a rookie in a way. That was sort of comforting. 

_Whatever then. Let me know when you’re a half hour out._

_See you later, detective._

It wasn’t until he set the phone down that he realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out. Lunch with an android. Who was going to help him study. He leaned back in his chair and watched the buzz of the station move around him for a long while.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a shade too cold to eat outside, so Gavin sharked a table by the window. Weak fall sun slanted through clouds dyeing everything a pale yellow. Nines appeared on time, making a beeline for the table. 

“Hello, detective.” 

“Hi,” held a mug of coffee tightly between his hands. The diner was a cop shop, just three doors down from the precinct. He’d thought about going further afield, but that felt like hiding. And he didn’t have anything to hide. 

Still he didn’t like the feeling of eyes on him as Nines sat in the booth across from him. His crisp button down looked at odds with the cracked red vinyl. His hair too neatly kept for the chipped formica table. At his side was a sleek messenger bag in grey leather. From it he pulled several slim books and a stack of paper. 

“I evaluated the materials for what might be the most helpful to you. The papers have excerpts from several distinguished works and some personal observations that may be of assistance,” the stack settled next to Gavin’s napkin. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he glanced over the first sheet of paper. There were notes written in italics after two paragraphs of quotation from something called ‘Child Development and Trauma’. 

“You’re doing my department a favor at considerable expense of your time and efforts. It seems the least I could do.” 

“You ready to order?” Madge, the waitress that had been serving Gavin burnt coffee for his entire career arrived. She owned the joint, not that anyone would guess it by how she acted. “The usual, Gav?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he hadn’t even opened the menu. 

“I don’t have it printed up yet, but I’ve got some good teas in,” Madge turned her attention to Nines. “Or some of the blue stuff if you want it.” 

“Do you have raspberry?” 

“Sure, I’ll get you a mug.” 

“You drink tea?” 

“It’s an affectation that many of us have taken up,” Nines shrugged. “A warm mug feels good in one’s hands and the smells are pleasant. It also alleviates the strangeness of staying somewhere for a period without making a purchase.” 

“Huh. Bet it makes humans act less weird, right?” 

“It does seem to disturb some when we can’t eat with them,” Nines had a slight frown. “Eating is a communal activity. A display of trust.” 

“It’s a tactic you learn in interrogation,” he tried not to stare at Nines. His incongruity made it nearly impossible to look away. “Mirroring behavior.” 

“That makes it seem...manipulative.” 

“Yeah well, I don’t think that’s bad. You’re trying to survive. Make allies.” 

“That’s a very mercenary way of looking at it.” 

“Why? What are we all trying to do, huh?” he didn’t know he’d felt passionate about this, but apparently he did. “You, me. Humans. Androids. We all just want to survive as long as we can and not be lonely or miserable while we do it. Some people make fucking stupid choices to get there. I don’t think fake drinking tea rates high in crimes against humanity." 

“That’s quite a philosophy, detective.” 

He tried to find any hint of judgement, but none was forthcoming. 

“It’s a kind of evolving thing,” he mumbled, glad that Madge swung by refreshing his coffee and bringing Nines a mug of red tinted water, the tea bag still hanging over the side. 

“Thank you,” Nines glanced at her. Madge smiled back at him. 

“Really do need to make a menu up,” she nodded. “You tell me if there’s anything you’d like to see on it. Just let this one know if you think anything up.” 

“Of course.” 

When she’d gone, Nines returned his full attention on Gavin. It was a lot. Those grey eyes looking straight into him, unblinking and filled with a thousand processors. 

“Did you work with Martinez a lot?” he grasped at straws, unsettled. 

“Yes. I liked her,” he paused. “Can I ask you something about etiquette?” 

“I don’t know shit about etiquette, but sure.” 

“I was not invited to her baby shower though my colleagues were. I’ve been assured that it was due to my perceived gender rather than dislike,” he checked with Gavin, who nodded warily, “but I’ve also been told it’s still appropriate for me to send a gift now that the baby has arrived.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” 

“I have done several searches, but I’m not clear on what’s appropriate to gift that she hasn’t already received.” 

“Oh, there’s gift cards. Those are always useful,” he could tell that answer wasn’t going to work as soon as he said it. Nines could've thought of a gift card, “Can’t go wrong with a blanket or some clothes. Buy a couple of months ahead. Everyone buys the newborn shit, but it fits for like ten minutes. Just think about what the weather will be like by the time they can fit into it.” 

“That’s helpful. I think I can locate a few items. You seem knowledgeable.” 

“I’ve got nephews. I helped out a lot when they were small.” 

“I have no experience with babies. The cases with infants seem to wind up with my colleagues,” he frowned slightly. “I think they are afraid.” 

“Afraid of what?” 

“That I might inadvertently injure them. Childcare is not part of my original protocols. And they’ve seen that I’m strong. They make use of that. But if I’m not given the chance I can’t learn.” 

“You said you like Martinez, right?” 

“Yes,” Nines tilted his head. “Why is that relevant?” 

“In a couple of weeks, ask if you can visit. Be useful. New parents need a lot of stuff. They’re tired and doing lots of new shit. Offer to do some chores and they’ll probably let you hold the baby by the end of it.” 

After that it was easy. Nines had questions about babies and Gavin knew enough to get by on the topic. Madge brought by the tuna fish sandwich on whole wheat with extra pickles on the side that had been his standard lunch for years. As he ate, Nines went over the materials he’d brought, recommending prioritizing some over the others. 

“There are many contradictions,” he concluded with a clear air of exasperation. “Humans have a hard time agreeing on how to care for children.” 

“Opinions are like assholes, everyone’s got ‘em,” Gavin said vaguely, chewing through the last of his pickles. “And most of them are shitty.” 

“That’s very...poetic,” Nines' tone was dead, but there was that faint shadow of a smile pulling on one corner of his mouth. Ha. 

“Here’s your check,” Madge set down the pay tab. 

“Thanks,” Gavin picked it up,then realized Nines had been halfway to grabbing it. “No fucking way. I can pay for your smell experience.” 

“I can afford it.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Gavin rolled his eyes. “Not the point. You gave up your lunch hour to help me out.” 

“We didn’t spend much time discussing the materials.” 

“Just say thank you, dipshit.” 

Nines did not say thank you. But he did drop his hand. 

“If I were not here, I would just be walking,” Nines said eventually as Gavin signed off on the charge. “I don’t like lunch breaks, usually. I would prefer to work.” 

“Where do you walk?”

“I pick a direction, walk for half an hour then turn around. Occasionally I have sat in the break room, but our schedules in the department don’t align, so I would be alone.” 

It was too pathetic to deal with. Gavin shoved out a breath, not letting himself think about it too hard, “I eat here every Tuesday and Thursday around the same time unless I’m on a case. Just...send me a text if you want to meet up and I’ll let you know if I’m around.” 

Nines gave him one of those piercing stares, then nodded slightly, “but you will let me pay next time.” 

“Sure, I’m not made of money,” he rolled his eyes, already planning a way to get around it. Madge would be happy to get in on it. She’d probably think it was cute. Ugh. 

“Thank you, detective.” 

“...Gavin,” he said lamely. “Just...Gavin, okay?” 

“Gavin,” Nines repeated. His voice was naturally deep, but there was something about register he said it in that made Gavin want to demand he say it again. “Please let me know if you have any questions about the materials.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

He got out of the booth and walked away, unwilling to stay a second longer. “See you.” 

If Nines said goodbye, he didn’t hear it. He just put his head down and concentrated on getting where he needed to go. 

The material was good. Better than the course. Especially with Nines italicized notes that in Gavin’s head took on his barely inflected voice. They were sometimes wry, or critical. There were traces of humor around the edges. 

By the time he got the first call, he felt prepared. 

“We’ve got two kids,” a social worker that he didn’t recognize started briefing him before he was halfway out of the car. “We received an anonymous tip a few days ago of suspected abuse from a teacher at their school. The kids are malnourished. There’s two that we’re sure of, nine year old girl, Daria, and a five year old boy, James. Their father was arrested a few weeks ago on possession charges.” 

“Got it. This is the check in?” 

“Yes,” the social worker was petite, her hair styled up in bright green and yellow spikes, but her demeanor was all business. “Even if drugs are found or the parents appear high, I would ask that you do not pursue arrest. We are here for the children and if we need to take them, it’ll be traumatic enough for them.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Observe, report, but maintain the safety of the children above all else.” 

She blinked then smiled, “You’ve been talking to Nines. I heard he’d recommended you, but I figured it was a rumor.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “he’s been pretty helpful.” 

“Good. We all like him. Pulls his weight and more, that's all anyone can ask for. Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

He let her lead the way, watching how she straightened her clothes minutely then knocked firmly on the door. A television was on, a laugh track leaking through the door. 

“Who is it?” a child’s voice. The girl probably. 

“My name is Yvonne Herring,” right, probably should’ve asked her name, but in fairness the woman was a gatling gun, “Can I speak to your mother, please?” 

“She’s sleeping,” the kid said quickly. 

“Dahlia, please open the door,” Herring coaxed. “We just want to make sure you and your mom and your brother are okay.” 

There was a long hesitation. But the lock clicked open and the door cracked. The girl tried to block their view in, but she wasn’t big enough to do the job. 

“Can we come in?” Herring coaxed. “We’re a little worried about you.”

“Mom has been asleep a long time,” the girl said eventually. “Longer than usual.”

Gavin tensed, but tried to keep his face still. 

“We can wake her up,” he said carefully, quietly. “You’re probably not supposed to wake her up, right?” 

Delilah nodded. 

“Then we will,” Herring glanced over her shoulder at him, evaluating. 

The inside of the house was clean, but dark. The shades had all been drawn. The boy, James, was at the table in the kitchen, drawing listlessly. His eyes narrowed as they came in, but his sister went to his side. 

The mother was in the living room, slumped on the couch. Gavin went to her, leaving the kids to Herring for now. She didn’t respond to her name or a gentle shake. He took her pulse and was relieved to find it. With a sigh, he got his flashlight off his belt and pried open one eyelid shining it in. 

Red Ice might be a drug of choice these days, but you couldn’t beat the classics. If he had to take a guess, he’d call opiates. It wasn’t an OD, but she probably shouldn't be left to her own devices either. He got up and rejoined Herring in the kitchen. 

“We should get a bus for her,” he glanced back. 

“We’ve already got someone looking into next of kin.” 

Delilah and her brother were looking wearily at them both. Herring sat down in an empty chair. 

“How long has your mom been sick?” 

Hesitation and then an outpouring, “For a few weeks. Daddy went to jail and she was really sad. She slept a lot. I was making us both lunch and stuff, to keep everything quiet. But there’s no more money and I didn’t mean to take anything-” 

“It’s okay,” Herring gave her a soft smile, “it’s okay. You did a good job. But you don’t have to worry about that now, all right? We’re going to get someone here to help your mother. You two are going to sleepover somewhere else for a few days.” 

It went smoothly after that. As smooth as these things went. Gavin helped pack the kids up, pushing away the wrongness of messing with a crime scene. This wasn’t a crime scene. Or at least, the crime wasn’t one that could be traced through evidence and chain of custody. The paramedics showed just as Herring was pulling out and it was a relief to do something recognizable, guiding them to the mother’s limp body and describing the symptoms he’d recognized. 

Hours later, after all sorts of new kinds of paperwork and plowing through some tipline calls on one of his cold cases, he got to go home. 

He fed Caro, fed himself and then he sat down on the couch and stared down the half-empty bottle of whisky. It glistened innocently in the lamp light. 

“Not tonight, motherfucker,” he got up and went to put it back in the cabinet. Hesitated. Unscrewed the cap and poured it down the drain. Dropped the bottle into recycling and went to bed. 

He might get a call in the middle of the night. Best to be sober.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Msilverstar for cleaning up my many typos!

Apparently there were always new realms of tiredness for Gavin to explore. He worked longer hours than he had even as a rookie. On his days off, he scoured thrift stores to build up a trunk full of soft toys and plastic entertainment. Things to distract and give away to distressed kids.

On the plus side, Eugene got less terrible at pushing paper and following up tips, their morning stand up meetings going smoother and smoother. It wasn’t like having a partner at all. It was like being a boss, a definite first for him. It was weirdly satisfying having some rookie peppering him with questions like he had all the answers. 

His life went on, tired or not. There was therapy on Friday mornings and dinner with Tina on Sundays like usual. But now there was lunch too. Tuesdays and Thursdays posted up in a booth at Madge’s with someone who didn’t eat. Nines always ordered tea and after some argument, they’d agreed that Nines could pay every third time which added up to almost equal on their order if you left out tip and common sense. 

They mostly talked about work, the first few times. 

“What else would you like to tell him?” Dr. Baraket had asked. 

“I don’t know,” he frowned. “I mean, work is what we’ve got in common. Guy doesn’t seem to have a hobby or a social life. He spends time with Connor and Anderson sometimes, but that seems more like...I dunno. Family-ish.” 

“Does he see it that way?” 

“Dunno.” 

“There’s a place to start.” 

Which was how Gavin wound up asking his new android colleague, “How’s Connor?” 

“Why are you asking?” Nines eyebrows lifted fractionally. 

“Fuck, just making small talk. Supposed to be a nice thing to do.” 

“Mm. But you hate him.” 

“...a little,” he conceded. 

“But you still asked.” 

“Well I don’t hate _you_ ,” he rolled his eyes. “And he’s like your...brother or something.” 

“I don’t know if I would call him that,” Nines had hibiscus something today. It was fluorescent pink. “We don’t have siblings.” 

“But he likes to watch out for you, right? He’s your friend at least.” 

Nines rubbed a thumb over the rim of his mug, a dot of pink catching against his skin, “I suppose...I suppose brother is closer than friend by the common definitions. We have many disagreements, but we care for each other. He did not have to take me in when I was discovered at Cyberlife.” 

“Sounds like a sibling to me,” he nodded. “Disagreeing just goes hand and hand with it.” 

“He is very naive,” Nines' thumb paused and then started again. “And he does not understand me.” 

“Yeah, that fits too. What’s not to understand though? I mean you guys are different, but you’re not that different.” 

“We’re different enough,” Nines exhaled abruptly, “he is concerned that I have not responded to deviance as he did.” 

‘Thought that was the whole point of going deviant? It’s...getting free will or whatever.” 

“Yes. So did I,” was that bitterness? Interesting. “But he does not like that I haven’t learned to emote as strongly. That I do not pursue a career that would use my investigative talents. That I express boredom more than anything else.” 

“Fuck him,” Gavin said mildly. “He’s been deviant for what a couple of months more than you? What does he know?” 

“He has a romantic partner. Friends. A life outside of his work,” Nines frowned. “He is a successful person” 

“Good for his dumb ass. It’s not like he planned it out all neatly or whatever. He got lucky. Got Anderson as a partner, which should’ve been a shitshow, but they turned out to like each other. That’s just life. Sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you get fucked over.” 

“Should I add that to the pamphlet?” 

“What pamphlet?” 

“I had originally considered a treatise, but your aphorisms are hardly lengthy enough to fill a book. A pamphlet on ‘Gavin Reed’s Guide to Life’ seems about right.” 

“Shut up, shithead,” Gavin grumbled, trying to repress a smile. “See if I try to bless you with a life of hard won wisdom again.” 

“Is that wisdom working for you?” 

“Sure, look at how fucking successful I am,” he gestured down at his hoodie which had a hole in the armpit and a fresh coffee stain from a spill a few minutes before. “Anyway, you’ve got friends and shit. Martinez let you hold her baby and everything.” 

“She did,” Nines allowed. 

“And you can have a life out of work if you want one. What’s stopping you?” 

“I haven’t discovered much that interests me.” 

Which was probably why when Tina handed him the tickets and said, “Turns out I gotta work that night and Iris hates going to concerts alone. You want ‘em?” He’d taken them. 

“Bad idea,” he muttered to himself as he got out his phone. “What if he hates it?” 

_How will you know if you don’t ask?_ he could practically hear Dr. Baraket say in his ear. 

So he sent the text. Nines got back to him immediately with a yes. 

Right, no big deal. Gavin wanted to go to the concert. They were more fun with someone else. Even if the music sucked, he’d get to watch Nines go to his first concert which would have it’s own entertainment value. 

He definitely did not stand in front of the mirror for a half an hour, trying on various combinations of his admittedly limited wardrobe. Disgusted with himself, he finally settled for dark wash jeans and a soft grey v-neck t-shirt with a band’s name crumbling off it. He’d left the product out of his hair and he needed a cut so it hung in his eyes a little. 

Then he had a staring contest with an ancient eyeliner pencil. He’d had it in his drawer for years, more for the nostalgia then use. There was absolutely no reason to use it tonight. There was no way he was going to try to pull someone with Nines standing right there. That’d be...rude or something. 

But otherwise it just looked like he was a nearly middle aged man who hadn’t done his laundry that week. The eyeliner would make it A Look and tonight he wanted that and he didn’t have to explain to anyone, including himself. The eyeliner went on. Then off again when it came out ragged. Out of practice. He tried again until it was a thick dark even line and he smiled into the mirror. Not bad, Reed, not bad. 

Nines knocked on his door at precisely 8:30. Maybe he’d been standing out there for a few minutes, watching the clock countdown. Seemed possible. 

“Coming!’ he headed for the door, dodging Caro’s casual attempt to dump him on his ass. So he was slightly distracted when he opened the door. 

“Good evening, Gavin.” 

“Yeah-” he stopped, breath caught in his throat. 

Nines was not wearing a button down or a jacket. He was not wearing creased slacks or carrying his fussy bag with him. Instead he was wearing a pair of black jeans that looked painted on, and a black tank top. 

“Is this acceptable?” Nines glanced down at his clothes. “I did some research on what was appropriate, but some seemed extreme.” 

“It’s great. Fine. Good,” Gavin took a step backward, “Just uh. Give me a minute to get my shoes on.” 

And write a thank you note to the body sculptors at Cyberlife because holy shit! Why did an android need biceps like that? Or miles of flawless skin that suggested a softness that probably didn’t exist?

“You’re wearing makeup.” 

“Yeah,” he forced himself back into the moment. Nines had taken a few steps in, paused by Caro who wound herself between his legs. “You can pet her. She likes chin scratches.” 

Nines slowly squatted down, offering his fingers to her. She sniffed them then aggressively headbutted him. “I saw some people wearing makeup at these events.” 

“It’s not required or anything. Just looks cool.” 

“I’ve never worn any.” 

“Do you want to?” he blurted which did not bode well for the rest of the night. He’d had a single shot of vodka while he was attempting the eyeliner. Just to steady his nerves and he was already regretting it. 

“It would be interesting,” Nines looked up at him, Caro leaning hard into his hand with purring bliss. 

Which was how Gavin found himself with an eyeliner pencil in one hand and after a, “I need to touch your face” Nines’ hairless cheek in the other. His skin was actually very soft, goddammit. Apparently he couldn’t grow or maybe chose not to grow facial hair. 

Nines didn’t move as Gavin approached his eye with the pencil. Was that trust? Or just the sure knowledge that Nines reflexes were infinitely faster? 

“Close ‘em,” Gavin breathed out and Nines closed his eyes. It instantly killed some of the intensity of the situation. Although it did draw attention to the pretty dark curve of his eyelashes. Why did androids need eyelashes? He felt personally attacked. 

“I haven’t done this on someone else in a long time.” 

“When did you last?” 

“Uh,” he didn’t press down firmly enough on the first pass, leaving a thin grey ghost of pigment behind. “Probably ten years or so ago. I had this friend from high school, a total piece of work, but he was a musical genius. Played concert piano and all that shit, listened to anything though. Loved punk. He got me into every band I ever liked.”

“What was his name?” 

“David,” he tried the line again, relieved when it went on smooth and relatively smudge free. He could feel a very slight buzzing under his fingers. Nines wasn’t breathing per se, but he felt alive anyway. “He’s in some classy orchestra now. Stopped talking to me when I became a cop.”

“It does seem that punk has objections to the police.” 

“Yeah well, they can’t stop me from listening, can they?” he moved slowly, carefully to match the line on the other eye. “Anyway, there’s some seventeen year old still in me who still gives the precinct a middle finger on the way out the door sometimes.” 

“Humans are very strange,” Nines sounded put out and Gavin laughed. 

“Sorry, bot-boy, no one programmed us with logic. We’re just full of chemicals and spite.” He studied his work. “Open ‘em.” 

Nines opened his eyes and Gavin was gut-punched. There was blue in that grey, surfacing in contrast to the black. 

“What?” 

“Looks good,” he managed. “Take a look in the bathroom while I get my shoes on.” 

He was grateful that his old boots took a while to lace up. He was just finishing when the tips of Nines’ shoes entered his vision. 

“Ready?” 

“Yes. Will you be driving?” 

“Let’s take a cab. Parking is a nightmare at the venue.” 

The venue was more of a fenced off field with a semi-permanent outdoor stage. By the time they got there, it was already packed with bodies. The first band of the night was still setting up, the speakers rattling to life. Nines’ expression was still, but he was looking around like he was casing the joint. 

“Is this safe?” he asked eventually. 

“Probably not,” Gavin shrugged, stopping at a vendor to buy a bottle of water. He probably should’ve brought one. Too bad his brains shorted out before they left. “I mean safe enough for fires and shit, but large groups of people in one place can go bad.” 

They waded into the frey. Or at least Gavin did. People seemed to part for Nines, instinctively recoiling from his large frame and determined expression without registering they were doing it. 

“You go first,” he decided when he saw the reaction. “We can get closer.” 

Finally though they did reach a spot where the hardcore fans had planted themselves and they were unlikely to get closer. 

“This is fun?” 

“Give it a few minutes,” Gavin rolled his eyes. “They haven’t even started playing yet.” 

At last, the skinny brat that looked like the front man picked up his guitar and yelled, “Hey! Fuck you, Detroit!” 

“And fuck you too!” an army yelled back. Gavin hadn’t seen this group before, wasn’t familiar, but he could get on board with starting off like that. 

“We’re The Blasted and we’re gonna start this night off right!” He hit another chord. “HEY HO!” 

And this time Gavin could participate in, “LET’S GO!” 

Punk Resurrection 2040 was off to a good start. By the third song, Nines had stopped surveilling the place and while he wasn’t participating as fully as Gavin, he was nodding his head along. Although, he did study Gavin doing an air guitar with extreme judgement. 

There was a pause while the first band made way for the second. Gavin unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and poured half of it down his throat and more of it onto his hair. He was already sweating hard. 

“So what do you think?” he yelled over the collective crowd noise. 

“You don’t need to yell,” Nines informed him. “I can pick out your voice.” 

“Useful. You good though? This is okay?” 

“It’s interesting,” Nines’ LED flashed yellow briefly, his eyes on Gavin’s hair. “Is that healthy?” 

“I’m boiling, totally normal way to cool off,” he snorted. “Is it a good kind of interesting?” 

“All interesting is good,” he said evenly. 

Success for Gavin Reed. Two points on the scoreboard. 

“Hello, Detroit!” the next band was up. They weren’t skinny teens at all, but a group of linebacker types in leather. And one of them had a violin, “We’re the Revenge of the Irish and tonight we’re all Rebels of the Sacred Heart!” 

“Fuck, I love this one,” Gavin rocked on his feet. 

The lead had a great voice too, singing the slower opening lines with relish and unbothered bye the crowd crowing along, _”Now I'm aimin' for heaven/ But probably wind up down in hell/ Where upon this alter I will hang my guilt ridden head/ But it’s time I`ll take before I begin/ Three sheets to the wind, Three sheets to the wind...”_

He watched Nines face as the tempo changed and the crowd whipped up in energy. The android did startle, only given away by the widening of his eyes, the reflexive twitch of a hand. 

But then... 

“The lead singer is an android,” Nines told him. 

“Yeah? Good for them,” he threw his fists in the air and went on singing along. 

There were five acts lined up, but by the time the Revenge of the Irish finished off their set with some Dropkick Murphys, Gavin could use some time in a chair. Fuck, he wasn’t a kid anymore. Nines didn’t seem troubled by the move towards the vendors where some picnic tables were scattered with fellow attendees in various stages of drunken snacking. 

Gavin sat down heavily and leaned back against the table. The city lights weren’t far enough away to let him see the stars, but the moon was fat and bright in the sky. 

“What a rush,” he stretched out his legs. “Bored yet?” 

“No,” Nines sounded a little surprised. He sat down beside Gavin, “I had listened to some of the music in preparation, but it did not sound the same.” 

“Live is different,” Gavin nodded knowingly. “Energy of the crowd. How fucking loud it is. Best is when you can feel the bass in your body.” 

“I had that experience,” Nines also inclined his face up to the moon. “I didn’t think I would. It’s rare to process something the same way humans do. For me, at least.” 

“Eh, don’t think most humans process stuff the same either. Lots of people hate punk.” 

“It seems for everything a human likes there is one who dislikes it the same amount.” 

“I know, right? Punk is great though. I mean it’s sort of outdated, I guess, but so what? David-” he stopped then restarted, “he wasn’t just my friend. He was my first boyfriend, sort of. We didn’t call it that. Whenever I go to concerts like this, I remember the good parts of that.” 

“Like what?” 

Gavin glanced at Nines, but the android was still looking at the moon. 

“Being wanted,” he said eventually. The next band was starting up, but from this distance it wasn’t nearly as dominating. “Sharing something together that meant something to both of us.”

The LED pulsed a gentle blue, whirling around and around, “Thank you for inviting me, Gavin.” 

“You’re welcome,” Gavin elbowed him gently. “Wanna go back or are you burnt out?” 

“I think it’s you who are burnt out. Or at least dehydrated.” 

His mouth really was dry as fuck. He got another water and on impulse bought something else. They stayed for another two acts, but Gavin gave up on seeing the last one, already getting that gritty eyed sensation of staying up too late. At least it was for a good reason. 

He waited until the cab stopped in front of his apartment building. Then he pulled out the t-shirt that he’d jammed in his pocket. 

“Everyone needs to have a t-shirt from their first concert,” he said solemnly. 

“Thank you,” Nines took it cautiously, unfolding it. 

It was sort of hideous. Acid green with a sketchy drawing of a zombie in a leather coat stumbling across the stomach and ‘Punk Never Dies!’ scrawled over the chest. Nines raised his eyebrows. 

“Night!” he got out of the car before Nines could say anything else. 

He hummed ‘Rebels of the Sacred Heart’ under his breath all the next day.


	6. Chapter 6

“Did you die? If you die, can I have your desk?” He could make out the shuffling of papers, Tina sitting down on the edge of his desk. He looked up at her bleary-eyed then dropped his head back down into his arms. 

“I took a kid to the ER last night,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, shit, that sucks Gav.” her thigh touched his arm, just a single careless point of contact. He was momentarily overwhelmed by gratitude for her existence. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to get lunch today, but I could bring you something?” 

“You don’t have to do that,” he sat up, ran his hand through his hair. 

“Kid okay?” 

“Short term, probably. Long term? Who the fuck knows. The parents are probably going to lose custody.” 

Tina was quiet, the noise of the precinct foggy through his sleep deprived state. Someone was getting booked out front and making a racket about it, the rise and fall of yelling a background texture. The percolator was going. Someone was typing on their keyboard like it had wronged them. 

“You wanna talk about?” 

He considered saying no. They’d become friends years ago when careful roundabout questioning revealed they’d both been in the system. Tina had been adopted at ten, Gavin had gone in at eleven. They didn’t really talk about it, beyond that initial acknowledgement. The sure knowledge that they understood that part of each other had built a foundation of camaraderie that was unshakable. 

“I used to wonder why a lot,” he gave her a crooked smile. “Now I just think people are broken sometimes, you know?” 

She nodded, her eyes trained on some far off elsewhere, “Doesn’t make the question go away though.” 

“No,” he nudged her with an elbow. “C’mon. Buy me lunch. And coffee.” 

“You should be going home,” but didn’t argue any further. 

They didn’t go to the diner. Tina favored a vegetarian place that was a little further up the road and Gavin liked the chili well enough. He was grateful for the thick warmth of it as chatted. 

“How was the concert?” She started breaking her sandwich into pieces. Tina always dissected her food before eating it. 

“Good,” he swirled sour cream into the depths of his bowl. “The Revenge of the Irish were great. You know, I would’ve taken Iris if she wanted company. Should’ve asked that.” 

“Nah,” Tina finally ate a chunk of cornbread. “Thanks for the too late thought though, fucker.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Is it me?” 

“Nah, I mean only because you're more my friend or something,” she shrugged. “Don’t take it personally.” 

“I don’t,” he said quickly. “Just...you know.” 

“She likes you just fine, Gav,” Tina assured him. “More than Anya ever did.” 

“Anya,” he pointed his spoon at her, “can eat my entire ass.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she smiled fractionally. “Same. She’s got this new girlfriend now. I ran into them when I was getting groceries. I wanted to warn the poor woman.” 

“I like Iris a lot better,” he shrugged. 

“So do I,” she dumped chunks of cornbread into her own chili, “who knows? I might keep her.” 

“There’s an idea.” 

“Anyway, who did you take instead of my girlfriend?” 

“Nines.” 

“Oh?” her eyebrows lifted up. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.” 

Friends? Were they friends? Fuck.

“I’ve been meeting him for lunch. I mean I eat, he just sits there mostly, but yeah. Once and awhile.” 

“And that’s...ok?” 

He felt too seen and a little ashamed, “Yeah, I...yeah. He acts stiff and above it, but I think he’s pretty lost..” 

“Gav.” 

“T.” 

“Wish you’d said something. I would’ve invited him over for friendsgiving.” 

Which was only three days away and he really needed to remember to pick up butter.

“I-” how would that go? “I don’t think he’s got plans. He mostly hangs out with Connor and I think he and Hank are still on that case in Tampa.” 

“No idea, I don’t pay attention to consultants,” she said with a hint of disgust. Tina was firmly in the camp that Anderson’s retirement had been in bad taste, depriving the precinct of a senior officer at a bad time. “But yeah, tell him he’s welcome. One of Iris’ friends from the Y is an android, so he won’t be the only one.” 

Tina had never hated androids as purely as Gavin had. Maybe she’d never hated them at all. Neither of them were welcoming people and she had always been happy to agree with him on whoever he was venting his spleen on in any given week. 

“I’ll tell him.” 

He considered waiting until lunch the next day, but belatedly remembered that Nines was at some conference. He’d have to text. Or call. Gavin waited until he got home, still wiped out, but now comfortably ensconced on his couch, lights off and Caro crunching on her food in the other room. 

“This is RK900 speaking,” he answered as smooth as a default voicemail box. 

“Hey. Uh, how was the conference?” 

“I took notes for you, there were several parts I thought you might find interesting.” 

Gavin closed his eyes, “Usually what I like at a conference are the stale cookies you get with coffee at the breaks.” 

“They did seem popular. Except for the oatmeal raisin.” 

“Raisins are to cookies what pineapple is to pizza. Only a couple of people like them and the people that don’t will make fun of the people that do forever.” 

“One for the pamphlet. In any case, what I recorded for you were the parts on testifying. You’ve stated how much you dislike doing it and I thought it would be helpful.” 

“I know how to do it, I just hate it,” he frowned. 

“I find more information alleviates anxiety.” 

“That’s the title of your fucking memoir,” he snorted. “Anyway, thanks, I guess.” 

“Is that why you were calling?” 

“No, uh, Tina wants me to invite you to friendsgiving.” 

“That is generous of Officer Chen,” Nines was quieter, hushed. Where was he right now? In his sublet apartment? Or on one of his long walks that seemed to take him all over the city? “ We’ve only met a few times. I’m surprised she would consider me close enough.” 

He could lie. Lying was easy. But what was the point? 

“She asked me because she knows that you and I are friends.”

“I see,” there was the slightest of pauses, “that’s very kind of her.” 

“Tina’s all heart,” he agreed. “You don’t have to come. If you’ve got other plans, or whatever.” 

“I don’t. If I wouldn’t be a burden then I would like to attend. Is it substantially different from a traditional Thanksgiving?” 

“We make a lot of food, drink, and then we have an arm wrestling tournament to choose the first movie. Second movie goes to a trivia game winner. So you know, everyone gets a fair shot. Drink through the movies. Eat more. Anyone that can get home on their own power wins.”

“I didn’t realize holidays had winners,” the faint trace of amusement made Gavin smile. “What should I bring?” 

“Might as well bring some tea. There’s gonna be at least one android kicking around. Starts at 3, I’ll give Tina your number if that’s okay. She can give you the details.” 

“That’s fine.” 

“Ok. So I’ll see you there.” 

“You will.” 

“Good night then.” 

“Good night, Gavin.” 

Caro jumped up onto his chest and started kneading his sweatshirt. He pet her idly and lay there under her until sleep came for him.

Work was the kind of busy it always was before the holidays, technically normal amounts, but everyone kept slowing down and chatting. Leaving treats in the breakroom to lure people into watercooler talk. Gavin easily resisted. It took more than sugar to get him to make small talk with people he barely tolerated. 

Instead he worked on getting things squared away and cleanly finished as was ever possible so he could enjoy his day off. 

Technically a day off, actually more like a day of getting texted a list of forgotten ingredients from Tina in a panic at 9am. Which was why he was at her door a full six hours before the party started. 

“Oh good,” Iris answered the door in full on pajamas. Her normally poised elegance was instantly demolished by her fuzzy cartoon sheep themed pants. It was nice. “Calvary is here, honey! Thanks for making the stop, Gav.” 

“Sure. It was that or get to sleep in and that’s illegal.” 

“Uh huh,” Iris stepped out of his way, “heard you’ve got a friend coming.” 

“Yeah,” he shifted the shopping bag a little, heading for the kitchen. “Thanks for letting him com.” 

“Of course,” she shrugged, trailing him to the kitchen. Well kitchenette with an overwhelmed island. Tina was stirring something in a bowl like it had personally offended her. “More the merrier.” 

“Gav!” Tina looked up at him, “Did you get the goods?” 

“The deal is going down,” he pulled out a can of pumpkin puree. “Why do I have this?”

“I’m making a pie.” 

“T.” 

“Gav.” 

“...okay, what do you need me to do?” 

It turned out that Tina making a pie looked a lot like Gavin making a pie. At least she’d already bought most of the ingredients, but when asked about a recipe, she looked up from a pile of bread crumbs, “Just use what’s on the can, dingus.” 

Look, Gavin wasn’t a gourmet chef or anything, but he liked the things he made to taste good. He hadn’t baked anything in a long time though. He considered his options. It was probably a good window for something he’d wanted to do anyway. 

Carefully, he composed a text to Allie, 

_happy thanksgiving, know you’re probably cooking, but if you have a sec could you send over your pumpkin pie recipe?_

He read over the recipe on the can while he waited for a response. She responded faster than he expected, 

_happy thanksgiving! Boys are helping cook, all is in chaos. I like this one a lot, double the spice tho_ there was a link attached to some blogger who used a ton of pictures. Helpful. 

_thanks_

_send me a pic of how it turns out_

They used to do that a lot. When she was in college and he was offering what little cooking knowledge he’d had from trying to put together decent meals for her when he could. From her dorm kitchen, she’d send him photos to diagnose issues or just to brag. He’d ignored them sometimes, figuring there would be time to answer later. 

_you got it._

After years, he and Tina moved around each other easily in the tight space. He chopped veg once the pie was in the oven. Then he stuck a fork into the poor turkey so she could go at it with a meat cleaver. 

“You get a more even cook if you butterfly it according ot the internet,” she explained, the leg bone cracking. 

“I think I might go vegan,” he pulled a face. 

“You’d last a day.” 

All told, by the time 3pm rolled around the food was mostly done and Gavin was already two beers in. Nines arrived at the same time as Eugene and the rookie was clearly enraptured. 

“You did such a great job with her!” he was enthusing while Nines patiently listened and Iris herded them into the living room. “I thought for sure I was getting knifed.” 

“She was just scared,” Nines inclined his head. “But I’m glad you were uninjured.” 

“Hi, Nines!” Tina called from the kitchen. “Thanks for coming!” 

“Thank you for having me,” he slid away from Eugene and made for the kitchen. Cradled in one arm was a beautiful looking gift basket with an arrangement of teas, honey, and two delicate looking cups. “For you.” 

“Oh, wow!” Tina beamed, taking it from him. “I bought some chamomile because JJ likes it, but this’ll be a big hit. Not just for you two.” 

Gavin was washing utensils, watching out of the corner of his eye as Nines nodded and asked after the menu. Smart question if you wanted to deflect. Tina got going and didn’t stop until several more guests arrived and there were other distractions. 

“Hello, Gavin,” Nines moved to his side. His right side. Putting Gavin between him and the rest of the party. Huh. 

“Hey, want to dry?” 

Nines located the dishrag and started meticulously removing water droplets. 

“I received many texts today. Wishing me a happy holiday.” 

“Yeah, people do that,” he handed him a ladle that was due to see some soup soon, but had a mystery crust on it when Tina liberated it from a deep drawer. 

“They did not last year.”

“You started working at social services in what? September?” Nines nodded. “Then yeah, I mean they should’ve anyway, but they didn’t know you that well. Now you’re one of them. They all talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass.” 

“That’s a horrible turn of phrase.’ 

“Uh huh,” he turned off the tap, setting down the last spoon. “Still true.” 

“I’m programmed to be competent.” 

“You’re programmed to be shitty at taking a compliment is what you are.” 

Nines’ LED flickered yellow, and Gavin read that as mild irritation. Heh. 

“I don’t think you should speak to my co-workers anymore.” 

“You set me up with this gig, live with the consequences,” there was a warmth in his stomach now that had nothing to do with beer. 

A timer buzzed and Tina re-descended on them. “Turkey is almost done, can you warm up the potatoes and get the casserole on the table in the living room? Someone brought sweet potatoes, thank fuck.” 

Gavin peeled away to follow orders, helping set up up the buffet on the long folding table with it’s familiar cheerful plastic tablecloth decorated with leaves and in Iris’ perfect cursive painted on it in black ‘Fuck the Pilgrims’. 

There was a decent crowd milling around now, ten or eleven people making conversation. In the corner was the android Tina had mentioned, JJ. She had her skin turned off, a white and blue shine amid the matte shades of pale to dark. It had taken Gavin a long time to interact with a droid like that. They were calling themselves Chassisist which was a mouthful and a half. 

He was setting out the last of the dishes when Nines was approached by JJ. Spying was probably wrong, but Gavin was nosy as a profession and good at hiding it. He let Eugene corner him and talk his ear off, while he watched. 

JJ seemed friendly enough though it was even harder to tell without any facial clues. They talked for a few minutes and then JJ offered him her palm, face up. Nines hesitated. He looked uncomfortable, but his hand was starting to rise. 

“Hey, T! How’s the turkey coming?” Gavin yelled across the room. 

“Done!” She shouted back triumphantly, finally emerging with a tray. 

The moment was broken. Distracted by the rush of humans to the food, JJ dropped her hand and Nines slipped away. Or rather showed up at Gavin’s side as he waited his turn to pile up his paper plate. His LED swirled yellow for a breath and then it was blue again. 

“Can your scanner tell me if any of this turkey is cooked and not dry as the bone it’s on?” he asked lightly. It actually looked decent. Maybe IT had been right to butterfly the damn thing. 

“I’m not a meat thermometer,” Nines said haughtily and Gavin hid a smile by leaning down to stab a likely piece. “The kitchen table does not seem suited to the amount of people in attendance.” 

“Yeah, it’s more of a standing situation,” Gavin gestured, around where people were speaking in small groups, plates resting on whatever surface. The couch had a couple of bodies on it too. Considering his options, Gavin plunked down on the floor by the coffee table, next to Tina, ensconced in her armchair. 

“That’s not standing,” Nines noted, then folded down easily into a full lotus beside him. He was wearing the jeans from the concert paired with one of his usually neatly pressed button downs. It wasn’t even the first time they’d been on the floor with each other, kids’ interviews being what they were. 

The last few years had been good, doing this with Tina and Iris and their motley guests. He’d enjoyed it despite himself at first and now it was part of the texture of his year. But tonight felt different. Better, he could admit to himself. Usually he’d get buzzed and mostly stay in Tina’s orbit, meeting people tangentially while tromping them at arm wrestling. Tonight he was the one being orbited. More subtly then he’d ever managed, but still. Nines stayed nearby, even when he was in conversation with someone else. 

“Gavin!” Tina waded throught the arm wrestling tournament that Iris was currently triumphing over. “Dessert!” 

“Ok, Fowler!” 

“Shut your face!” she threw a napkin at him and he laughed his way into the kitchen, unsurprised as Nines shadowed him. 

“May I help?” 

“Yeah, actually, I have the perfect job for you.” 

Which was how Gavin got to watch a top of the line android do an impression of a stand mixer. 

“Stiff peaks,” Gavin reminded him as he piled cookies of various qualities from three different guests onto a platter. 

With a soft sigh, Nines picked up the whisk and with alarming precision flicked it, a large dollop of cream landing on Gavin’s nose. “Is that stiff enough?”

“Holy shit,” Gavin laughed, and smeared it down into his mouth, “yeah, it’s great, asshole. Put it on the damn pie.” 

The pie had come out well, or at least looked okay. Nines carefully applied peaks of whip cream made it beautiful though. Gavin snapped a shot before it was whisked out to the table and sent it to Allie. 

_thanks, allie-cat._

_looks great! Check out my mess._ the picture that followed were the boys standing in front of a sink filled past the rim with pots and pans looking like they’d been caught mid-laugh. 

He rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest, _its a good mess_

Someone called to him to join the arm wrestling, but he walked past with a grin, “Gotta catch a smoke, I'll get the next one.” 

By the time the elevator hit the ground floor, his throat was tight too. Tina’s building was technically non-smoking, but there was a bench out back hidden in some bushes where they’d shared a few. He beelined to it, taking a cigarette out and lighting it quickly. He held it between his shaky fingers, staring at the dying foliage. 

Maybe he wasn’t surprised to hear a light crush of dirt and then, “Are you all right?” 

“No,” Gavin glanced up at Nines, “but I’ll be back up in a few. You should be up there, have some fun. Bet you could clean the floor at arm wrestling.” 

The wood of the bench creaked as Nines sat down beside him, “It’s loud.” 

The concert they went to had been loud. Different kinds of loud maybe. 

“You didn’t like JJ, huh?” 

“She’s pleasant. Why would you assume that?” 

“You didn’t want to do the glowy handtouch with her.” 

“Ah,” Nines’ LED did the quick yellow flicker thing it did. Gavin hadn’t seen many androids do it, now that he thought about it. Like he was forcing calm. “That wasn’t personal. I don’t like interfacing with other androids. Connor possibly as an exception.” 

“Only possibly?” 

“He’s nosy, but I can anticipate his inquiries.” 

He was no android expert, but he had eyes. The clerk at the corner store interfaced with practically every other android who came in. Only a fingertip maybe or a brief slide of palms. It seemed more like a secret handshake then intimacy. 

“And she was naked,” he said, hoping to just needle him. 

“Yes, there was that.” 

“Wait, does it actually bother you?” 

Nines frowned, “It shouldn’t.” 

“But it does.” 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I understand the movement. On a surface level, I agree. We’re not human and we shouldn’t have to look human to make you all less uncomfortable.” 

“That’s why you’ve still got your LED?” 

“Exactly. It’s mine and I don’t care if it makes me look like an android. I am an android. But to have no skin at all seems so vulnerable. So alien. We’re still programmed to look for faces, to recognize expressions. To look to clothing styles and body language. Stripping that all away just leaves naked truth. And the truth is very stark.”

“You know that’s bullshit, right?” Gavin tapped ash out into the dirt. “You spend all this time not making facial expressions and trying to dress as blandly as you can so no one can read you.” 

“None of that is intentional,” and that frustration was clear as day. 

“Okay, okay,” too far, Gavin, always too far. “I know you’ve said that before. I like you just fine being stark or whatever. You’re not an alien.” 

“That’s not what I said either,” but the tension leached away. 

“Guess not,” he took another puff. 

“And it’s not why you ran out of the apartment.” 

Shit, he’d remembered. 

“No. I just needed a minute.” 

“Why?” 

He considered his options. Play it off, go back and probably have a fun enough night. Tell a condensed version that made him look better and get some sympathy. Or just lay it out and probably piss off the first new friend he’d made in years. 

Nines had been vulnerable, right? 

“You guessed that I was in the system, right?” 

“You didn’t talk about it, so I assumed it was off limits.” 

“Yeah, it is,” he dropped the cigarette, used his boot to snuff it out. “My dad was a classic abuser. Beat the shit out of my mom every couple of months like clockwork then did all the love bombing stuff after. Every time was the last time. Then one day she goes out to get groceries, drops dead of a heart condition none of us knew she had, including her. I was nine, Allie was two. So he turned on me, right? Because I took over for Mom. I sort of knew all this before, but I guess reading all that stuff made it clearer.” 

“Gavin...” 

‘What?” he looked up at him, “Nothing worse than what you see every day.”

“You're my friend and I’m sorry that you were hurt,” it was painfully sincere. 

“Don’t worry, I paid it back in interest to the world,” he dropped his eyes back to his boots. “Someone caught on eventually. We got separated and I got bounced around from house to house. Finished out in a group home and walked out that door into the academy. Got an apartment I could barely afford and convinced them to give me custody of Allie.” 

“Kinship foster homes are considered preferable,” Nines murmured. 

“I did okay,” he stood by that. “She had food, shelter. Someone who gave a shit about her. Made sure she did her homework and all that. We were okay. When she wanted to go to college, I made sure it happened. But she grew up there. Grew past me too. Got a nice job in an accounting firm, met a decent guy. Got married. Had kids. And I was there.” 

“You mentioned helping when they were newborns. The children.” 

“I did,” he laughed mirthlessly. “Changed diapers, babysat, the whole nine. But it went....it went wrong because I was wrong. I didn’t fit there. I had all this baggage, and I never unpacked it. I’d set her up for a good life and then I fucking hated her for having it. Why her and not me, you know?” 

“Yes.” The vehemence surprised him, he glanced over at Nines again. “Not the situation, but the feeling. I’m familiar with the feeling.” 

“Yeah, maybe you are,” he nodded. “Anyway. You know how I was when I met Connor. When the whole shitshow of a revolution starting coming to a head, I was so fucking angry...I wasn’t even on duty. Just got out a baseball bat from under my bed and went into the streets.” 

“This relates to your sister? Or are you trying to remind me of your worst qualities all at once?”

“It relates,” he gritted out. “I found this woman. This android woman. Don’t know how she got separated, they were making such a point of rounding people up. But I found her, running scared. I chased her into the alleyway. It was dark....”

“Did you hit her?” 

“I came so close,” he sucked in a breath, “I was really going to do it. I’d given Connor a suckerpunch once before. And it felt good. Like I had control or something. Like I could say, no. Not here. Not today. And I wanted that. But she wasn’t anything like Connor. She was just a woman, alone with a crazy man chasing her with a bat. She started crying.” 

And he could still hear it, so loud it was like he was there. Just the sounds of his own heavy breathing. 

“What stopped you?” 

“She sounded like my mom,” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “just like her. ‘Please don’t hurt me, I’m sorry...’ sobbing like the world was ending. It just hit me like a ton of bricks. I dropped the bat, walked away. And it was like my entire fucking life had fallen on my head all at once. She ran off and I sat down on the curb in the damn snow. And I called my sister for the first time in two years.

“I didn’t even think she’d answer, but she did all frantic because she’d been watching the news and she thought maybe something had happened to me. And I asked her...I asked her if I had turned into Dad and that was why we didn’t talk anymore,” he swallowed thickly. “She just started crying. And I started crying. And I’ve spent the last two years trying to reckon with that. With this monster that I had in me that I thought was dead at the bottom of the bottle in some shitty town in Ohio.”

The silence unfolded. He hadn’t actually said all that out loud to anyone that wasn’t paid to deal with his bullshit. 

“I killed a man,” Nines said matter of factly. The sun had started to go down and it was hard to see his face. But his LED was as peaceful a blue as ever. “You can find the records if you wanted. It was judged to be self-defense.”

“Was it?” He asked, mouth suddenly very dry.

“It was when I was still working with Connor and Hank. They requested I look for leads in a black market case and I found something promising in an apartment building. Not far from here,” he gestured to the left, down the long rows of buildings. “I was meant to only investigate and report back, but I heard someone screaming.”

“So you busted down the door?” 

“More subtle than that, but yes essentially,” Nines agreed. “And there was a child.”

“This is the story you weren’t telling me about why you became a social worker, huh?”

“You remember that conversation?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” 

Nines didn’t argue, “He was holding a gun. Waving it around. The man, not the child. The child was terrified. At the time it seemed logical. The man was a danger to others. So I killed him.” 

“It happens, sometimes,” Gavin rubbed his palms against his jeans. “I’ve never shot someone lethally, but I’ve taken out a knee cap or two and even that can fuck you up.” 

“I didn’t have a firearm. I snapped his neck.” 

“Fuck that’s....” 

“It was only afterwards when I had to show Connor my memories that it occurred to me I could’ve easily disarmed him,” the confusion was still there, “I didn’t have to kill him, but I did.”

“The law was on your side.” 

“You and I both know that the law and justice do not always coincide,” a soft sigh. “In any case, what I mean to say is that if you are a monster, I must also be one. I have often felt like one.”

“No,” Gavin said with certainty. “You’re not a monster. You protected a kid. And you felt shitty enough about what you did to change your entire career to keep protecting them. That’s important.”

“And you have also made changes. Do they feel sufficient?” 

“No,” he sucked in a breath, letting it out shakily. 

Nines extend his hand, flat and palm up. Gone was the pale skin just an invitation in glossy white and faint blue light. An invitation. Slowly, Gavin slid his hand over. It was awkward to be that stiff, so he clasped it instead and Nines didn’t hesitate to hold back. 

“When we interface, it’s polite to share something new. An experience, a feeling. It doesn’t have to be much, but I’ve come to resent it. The expectation. I want to choose what I share of myself. And I don’t want other people’s memories.” 

“Yeah that sounds fucking miserable,” Gavin stared at their shared grip. How his skin was lit pale blue. “Guess I’m safe.” 

“Yes,” the word sounded heavy. 

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that. Just that his phone eventually trilled. An inquiry from Tina if they were going to rejoin the party. 

They did go back eventually, finding space among the movie watchers. It was dark and warm, nestled in among the crowd with Nines forced up beside him, touching all along their sides.


	7. Chapter 7

December was dismal. The weather had turned predictably cold, but not cold enough for snow. Every day was a misery of sleet and a running nose. Gavin drank too much coffee to compensate and then was up at all hours, working on backlogged paperwork and tipline calls until words lost their meaning. 

“Detective Reed?” Eugene approached him on the twentieth holding a paper cup in front of him like a shield. “I know it’s late, but um, would be okay if I took Christmas Day off? I know we were supposed to get requests in early and everything, but I didn’t know my uncle was going to be in town.” 

“Why are you asking me?” Gavin took the coffee. “I don’t approve your time off.” 

“I know, I know, but it means you’ll have to be here.” 

He stared at him blankly, “Where the fuck else would I be?” 

“Oh, um. Right.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he eased up, taking a sip. “Be with your family.” 

It was a bum gig, but Gavin always volunteered to work on Christmas Day. It was all overtime which never hurt. Tina and Iris went to Iris’ parents for Christmas, traveling to LA and sending him taunting pictures of the sun. If he didn’t work, he’d just be one of those sad schmucks on a bar stool on Christmas. 

At least this year, he’d probably get another picture from Allie. She’d already sent him one of the kids lighting Hannakah candles under Max’s proud gaze. He’d sent them presents based on Allie’s suggestions. Maybe she’d even film them opening them. 

Work wasn’t all bad. Morning was quiet, then the drunk tank gradually filling as the afternoon went on. The suckers on patrol would catch most of the festive fists and drunk shenanigans. He wound up lending a hand in booking when things got too rowdy. He ate lunch while fingerprinting a stripper Santa, who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tina would love that story when she came back. 

When he finally escaped, it was to find Nines standing beside his desk, a paper bag in one hand. He was damp, the shoulders of his blazer dusted with droplets of rain. The perfect coif of his hair had wilted a little, tiny pieces of ice glittering in the fluorescent lighting. 

“Hey, everything okay?” Gavin quickened his pace. 

“Fine,” the ghost of a smile graced Nines’ lips. “I remembered your complaining about tonight and I thought I’d bring you dinner so you weren’t left to ‘heat up a sad man’s frozen dinner’.” 

“Aw, man, really?” he grinned. “I should bitch more often.” 

Gavin offered up his palm and Nines met the gesture, their hands touching for just a breath. It’d started with friendsgiving, but Gavin had offered it up when they met for lunch next, unable to just let go of that moment. And Nines had graced him with that same smile, so of course Gavin went right on doing it until it was second nature. 

“Please don’t,” the amusement was there too. Gavin took the bag and pulled out tupperware with what looked like someone’s plate of Christmas dinner neatly folded inside. “Did you cook?” 

“Conner did,” Nines pulled over a chair from the neighboring empty desk. “He’s been experimenting with cooking. Apparently with mixed results, but Hank approved of this one. Except that he made enough for all three of us.” 

“And two of you don’t eat.” 

“Correct.” 

“Count me lucky about his bad judgement then,” he sat down too, pulling a plastic fork out of the bag with it. Nice. “I could eat a horse right now.” 

“You couldn’t, but it would be interesting to see you try. Would you start at the front or the back?”

“You’re a laugh riot,” he rolled his eyes, spearing a piece of ham eagerly. “Didn’t want to stick around there?” 

“It was already several hours of togetherness,” Nines shrugged fractionally. 

“Who’d you tell Connor the food was for?” 

“I told the truth. For the poor and unfortunate.” 

“You’re mean tonight,” he laughed. “It hasn’t been so bad anyway. Three more hours for that to change. Fucking twelve hour shifts, should be illegal.” 

“You volunteered.”

“Shut up, I’m eating.” 

The food actually was pretty good. Under seasoned, but he wasn’t in the mood to be picky.

“I did inform him I wanted it for you,” Nines said as Gavin finished eating. “He seemed... pleased.” 

“That’s creepy. Did he poison it or something?” 

“No, I think he’s happy I’ve made a friend. Even one he does not like very much.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Agreed.” 

They made eye contact and Gavin laughed, starting to feel much better about the day. So of course a call came in.

“Detective Reed, how many I help you?” An incident had erupted that had gotten more than average amounts of violence. Who even owned a machete these days? Gavin wrote down the details. “Duty calls.” 

“I assumed it might,” Nines stood, carefully returning the chair. He waited as Gavin pulled on his heavy winter coat, walked with him out of the precinct. “I know it is a long day for you, but if you would like to have some kind of celebration of the day, you would be welcome at my apartment. I was planning on watching the show you told me about last week.” 

“The Mandolorian? Oh, fuck, yes. It’s a classic, especially the first season. Count me in.” 

The machete incident dragged on and by the time he came back to the precinct, he could practically hear his bed calling him home. A text rolled in from Nines with address. It wasn’t even a competition. More coffee in a travel mug and off he went. 

He’d been wondering what Nines’ place looked like. He was trying to be better about assuming, but a big part of him was envisioning a white room with some kind of archaic charging station and a single hanging rack full of button downs in a subdue rainbow. 

Of course it wasn’t like that. Apparently Nines lived above a florist’s shop. The door into the building was painted a kelly green with cheery daisy decals pressed in a rim along the window. 

“What the fuck?” he asked the freezing rain as Nines opened the door and led him up a narrow flight of stairs. 

There were two doors at the top, Nines going through the one that was straight on. It must’ve been right over the store room because the whole place smelled green and lush. The floors were a dark well worn wood, the furniture simple, but present. There was a kitchen that apparently was serving more as a workstation. In theory Nines could do everything in his head, but human reality meant there were file folders neatly laid out with their labels littered with colored post-its. 

“This is nice,” he offered lamely as he hung up his coat on the empty antique coat rack. Seeing that Nines had left his own shoes by the door, he leaned over to take off his boots. “Homey.” 

“Thank you,” Nines touched the counter. “It came furnished. I haven’t made many changes.” 

“Right, subletting. Guess you can’t do much to it.” 

But as Gavin settled on the couch which was comfortable enough, he could make out small touches. The bookshelves were empty, except for a handful of polished stones, bits of brick, and fragments of colored glass. Things that would catch the eye of someone on a long walk. There was a framed sketch above the television, ink lines capturing a barely there body in motion, reaching up for something. It didn’t match the rest of the decor. 

The television was already primed, setup to play. The show looked a little more dated than Gavin remembered. 

“Man, I hope this holds up. I haven’t re-watched it in years.” 

“If it doesn’t then we’ll find something else,” Nines sat down on the other end of the couch. He’d ditched the blazer. His socks were argyle, subdue black and blue diamonds. 

“Yeah, all right.” 

It hardly mattered. Despite everything in him screaming ‘stay awake’, Gavin fell asleep within a half an hour of starting. It wasn’t his fault. Not when it was still raining outside, the sound was a lullaby all it’s own. The apartment was warmed through by ticking radiators, a perfect drowsy temperature. The lights were low too, just a table lamp with a shade that filtered everything into a buttery yellow. 

It wasn’t his fault that the show gave him a perfect time for him to just close his eyes for a second. 

When he next opened them, the lighting had changed entirely. Dawn was trying to break through the thick clouds, giving off a grey cast. The television was off and his mouth was dry as fuck. He started to sit up, wincing at the stiffness in his back. Something started to slide off him and he grabbed at it instinctively. A blanket, soft and fluffy. He yawned and tried to jump start on his brain. 

Nines was still on the other side of the couch. Or rather, was there again. At some point, he’d changed his clothes. There were flannel pajama pants which were mind boggling enough in their cherry red and pristine white. But they were paired with the t-shirt from the concert, it’s lime green clashing awfully with the red. 

He’d also changed positions, drawing his knees up to his chest, head resting against the back of the couch. His eyes were closed, those beautiful lashes settled against pale cheeks. There was no breathing, but under the hands he had folded across his stomach was a square device pulsing a gentle blue. Some kind of portable charging device, Gavin guessed. Nines ran extremely efficiently, but even he had to admit to needing to juice up once and awhile. 

So there he was, as asleep as an android got, in a t-shirt Gavin had bought him. His feet were bare. His toenails were even perfectly sculpted. His ankles were slim like his wrists, deceptive in what they could manage. There was no weird hair, no stray moles or freckles. Only flawless skin. 

Gavin’s gaze flickered back to his face. Created to be appealing to humans, to engender their trust, it had a similar flawlessness. But it had been seized by the mind behind it and forced into new lines, creating spaces for frowns and disdaining eyebrow tilts.

Both of them spent so much time fighting their programming. Maybe that was the appeal.

Gavin tried not to move, not to breath. He wanted to keep this moment fixed in his mind so he could revisit it whenever he wanted. 

_”Do you know what you want, Gavin?” Dr. Baraket had asked him only a handful of days ago. Gavin had reluctantly nodded. “Then let me paraphrase the Bard: The time has come to screw your courage to the sticking place.”_

To the sticking place. Screwing. Fuck. He dropped his head back on the couch. 

“Good morning, Gavin,” Nines’ eyes opened slowly, blinking several times. Some systems must’ve kicked online because all at once that artificial breathing began again and the faint sound of humming came to life. It was a sound Gavin hadn’t even known he was picking up these past few months, but relaxed when he heard it. 

“Morning. Sorry I passed out on you.” 

“It was always a possibility. You haven’t been sleeping well.”

“You've been scanning me?” 

“It’s hardly required,” Nines didn’t stretch or shift as he woke. His toes wiggled though. Cute. “I believe you could carry a lot of shopping in the bags under your eyes.” 

“You know how to make a guy feel attractive,” he tossed the blanket over the back of the couch. “Guess I should get out of your hair.” 

“Neither of us have work today,” the barely there shrug again. “You don’t have to leave.” 

“Gonna need your bathroom then.” 

Screw your courage. Or hide in the bathroom, taking a piss and noticing that the toilet paper roll had never been started and might’ve had a thin coat of dust on it. Guy had never had a human guest long enough for them to need it. Not surprising. 

The sink was used though. Androids showered sometimes. Washed their hands too. Apparently Nines favored green smells, the soap was rosemary scented. Gavin gave himself ten long seconds to stare at himself in the mirror. 

As a twenty-something, he’d been aware of being attractive. Now at nearly forty, he did indeed have bags under his eyes and three days of don’t-give-a-shit stubble. He’d slept in his clothes. There was a piece of lint in his hair that he brushed away irritably. 

Not exactly his prime look. 

But when was that coming? He wasn’t aging backwards and the job wasn’t going to get any easier. His insomnia came and went without invitation. This was it. This was what he had to work with. 

Screw your goddamn courage to the fucking sticking place. 

He went back into the living room. Nines had gotten up, running water into a coffee pot. 

“You’re an angel,” Gavin decided. Nines looked up, eyebrows raised. “For the coffee.” 

“You haven’t even had a sip yet. It could be terrible.” 

“It’s brown caffeine, Nines. It could taste like the devil’s asshole and I’d probably still choke it down.” 

“Do you have a metric for what the devil’s asshole tastes like?” 

Gavin rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter as Nines finished filling the machine and turning it on. There was already traffic rolling by outside, the sound of tires cutting through slush filling the quiet. With a few gurgles, percolation started and the rich smell of coffee mingled with the green. 

“You pick this place because of the smell?” he asked. 

“Partially,” Nines drew down a mug from a cabinet. It was practical, white and had the kind of thick handle Gavin liked. “I met the original leaser when I was still working for Connor and Hank. It was nearby and not too expensive.” 

“You were living with them before that?” 

“I stayed in the office.” 

Gavin pulled a face, “Why?” 

“They offered their home, but I didn’t enjoy staying there,” Nines set the mug carefully down, eyes on the drip of the coffee. “I desired my own space very early on.” 

“I can understand that.” 

“Do you like living alone?” 

“It’s fine,” Gavin shrugged. “I’m not home a lot and roommates are a pain in the ass. Living with Allie was complicated, but I liked that. We were in it together.” 

“In what?” the drip slowed, eking out the last of the water. 

“I don’t know. Life. Survival. Why else do you throw in with someone?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Nines reached into the fridge and pulled out a small pint of milk. There was no reason for that to be there, in the otherwise barren fridge. Had he gone out in the night to get it? Walked through the rain to a convenience store on a day when nearly everything was closed to get Gavin’s preferred 2%? 

He stared as Nines carefully poured in the milk. The coffee. Offered the mug with solemn ceremony. Gavin took it, took a single sip and then set it down again. 

“Do you want to know?” 

“Know what?” Nines face was blank. That careful nothingness that he excelled at. 

Gavin held out his hand, palm up, “What it’s like to be in all of this together?” 

“I don’t understand,” Nines protested, even as he met the gesture, their hands folding easily together. 

“I really like you,” he swallowed thickly. “And I don’t even know if you go in for romance or if you do, but not with humans. But if you want to try something, you know, with me then I’m on board. I want that. With you.” 

“That barely made sense,” Nines chided softly, but he was taking a step closer. 

“I want you to be my big annoying asshole plastic boyfriend,” Gavin huffed and that came easier and more natural. “I want to kiss you when you say condescending shit to me and look hot in tank tops.” 

“I don’t know how to do that,” Nines’ hand slid upward, encircling Gavin’s wrist, holding on. 

“That’s pretty human of you,” Gavin assured him. “But do you want to do it? Give it a try?” 

“Yes,” the word was tender and soft. “Very much.” 

“Oh thank fuck.” 

Gavin put his other hand on the back of Nines’ neck, encouraging him to bend and then kissed him. There was a stiffness for a few panicked seconds, but then give, Nines kissed back. It was a little stilted and confused. That Gavin could deal with. 

They kissed until Gavin got a crick in his neck and had to back away. He grabbed up his coffee with his left hand. The right one was still in Nines’ possession. 

“You played me, huh?” he teased gently. 

“What do you mean?” Nines straightened, but didn’t let go. His light was blue, but circling at speed. 

“You don’t need the heat on in here, right? Bet you usually don’t bother. And you brought me that big dinner. Didn’t turn on the overhead lights. You wanted me to fall asleep here.” 

“That sounds manipulative,” Nines frowned. “Are you accusing me of something?” 

“Just wanting things,” Gavin smiled to soften it. “It’s kind of nice, actually. I don’t think anyone’s put that much effort in getting me to do anything off the job in a long time. And I slept great.” 

“I had no idea that this was what would ensue,” Nines gestured loosely between the two of them. 

“Not even a little?” The LED flickered yellow then blue then yellow. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m telling you it’s okay, right?’ 

“You would normally be angry if I did something similar.” 

“Normally I didn’t just get kissed by a hot guy that I like a lot before the sun is up,” Gavin pointed out. “Puts me in a good mood.” 

“So you will be angry later?” 

“No, dumbass. Listen to what I’m telling you, not what you think is going to happen, huh?” he reluctantly parted with his coffee again to put his other hand on Nines’ arm, drawing him closer. 

“You do not generally respond well to manipulation.” 

“Look after I’ve finished my coffee, we can get into what the difference is between being a dickwad manipulator and seducing someone into sleeping peacefully on your couch, okay?” He rested his forehead on Nines’ chest. He could hear his systems working quietly away as regular as a heartbeat. “Let’s enjoy the moment.” 

Nines free hand rose with uncertainty then settled in Gavin’s hair, a slow curious touch. Gavin smiled down at the floor. The acid green of the t-shirt took up most of his vision. 

“I wondered what this felt like,” Nines tugged gently at one lock. “Your hair always looks very soft.” 

“Didn’t bother to put in gel yesterday,” he let him investigate, enjoying it as those graceful fingers combed through. “Makes it feel stiff.”

“I don’t have any programming for romance. Or sex.” It was probably meant to be a flat statement, but Gavin thought he could hear the question in it. 

“Did you have the programming to tell a kid that his mother loves him, but she can’t take care of him? Did you have a program to hug them? Show them how to draw a perfect cube to distract them from crying?” 

“You know I don’t. But-” 

“But what? You’re so fucking advanced, right? Big processing brain to adapt and learn. If you want to learn you can. Seems like you figured out kissing okay already.” 

“What if I don’t want to learn how to have sex?” 

“Then I guess me and righty continue our monogamous relationship,” he sighed and moved back enough to look him in the eye. Which unfortunately meant the petting stopped. “I don’t have any clue what you’ve got going on down there and what you want to do with it, but I’m up for whatever. If you want me to learn how to do whatever turns your crank instead then I will. I got a big adaptable brain too, you know.” 

“Yes, you’re very smart,” Nines said and Gavin couldn’t find any trace of mockery there. 

“Thanks. You want to know what I think?” 

“Almost always and even when I don’t, you insist on telling me.” Oh good, a return of sarcasm. 

“I think you wanted to touch my hair and scan me in my sleep or whatever. You wanted to kiss me and hold my hand, right?” With some reluctance, Nines nodded. “I think that’s someone who has romance down at least. And likes touching. No one’s touched me in a long time. It’s been long enough that I forgot to miss it. Want to keep trying that? Since we’ve got the day off.” 

He finally got to finish his coffee on the couch with his head resting on Nine’s shoulder. There was a hand in his hair and the television was on low. The rain carried on outside. Once the mug was drained dry, he picked up Nine’s other hand again, held it loosely between his own, exploring the surface. 

“Gavin?” 

“Mhm?” 

“You will need food soon.” 

“Probably,” he ran his thumb over the seam of skin to no skin. “Didn’t think to squirrel away some pancakes, huh?” 

“I did not imagine we would get this far,” Nines sounded a little dazed. That was nice. “There is a cafe a few stores down.” 

“Could order in,” emboldened, he moved upward, mapping the soft skin of Nines’s forearm. He could feel the unyieldingness below. “Stay here.” 

Nines was silent for a moment, the buzz of his processors kicked up then died down again, “I think I require a break.” 

Gavin let go instantly, “Sorry.” 

“Please don’t be sorry,” Nines rushed to say. “I’m struggling to process and watching you eat in an establishment is familiar. It would be restful.”

So they went out. The rain was still miserable, but the inside of the cafe was cheery. It was decked out for the holidays and people were gathered at the small tables, having animated conversations. Nines secured one of the window seats while Gavin ordered at the counter. 

It was kind of nice to just slide in across from Nines again. That table was smaller than they were used to at the diner and their legs jostled a little until Gavin wedged one of his knees between Nines’. 

“Processing goes easier if we talk about something else?” 

“No,” Nines mouth twitched as if trying to decide on an expression. “You touching me, slows things down.” 

“Oh,” he tried to imagine that. Big mega processors halting because Gavin ran a finger over a patch of faux skin. “Is that bad or good?” 

“It scares me. But I’m not sure that means it’s bad.” 

“Like cliff jumping.” 

“Cliff jumping is an extremely dangerous hobby,” there was a flicker of yellow. 

“Yeah, but what a rush,” he grinned. “Endorphins!” 

“Is this something you indulge in regularly?” 

“Sure, every day off I drive a gazillion miles to dive into the ocean.” 

“You’re being an asshole,” Nines determined. “Have you ever done it?” 

“Fuck no, that shit is dangerous.” 

“You’re not helping.” 

“Sure, I am,” he leaned back a little in his chair. “You think I’m not scared?” 

“I know you are,” Nines frowned. “That is part of what makes it concerning.” 

“Wanna know what scares me?” A slow nod. “Okay. I’m scared that you’ll realize I’m not worth your time for one thing.” 

“Gavin.” All the disappointment in the world there. 

“I’m a shithead. Always been one. Better than I used to be and yeah, I’m working on that being a continuing upward thing, but there’s that in me. All the time. I’m angry all the time, I hate most people. I’m bitter, pigheaded, and I’m probably going to insult you way more often than I say nice things.” 

“You say that like I don’t know,” Nines was somewhere between exasperated and pained. 

“I’m scared I’ll fuck up. More than the other just being me thing. I’ll just break things because I don’t know how else to be.” 

“That is very similar to my fear.” 

“You want to go back to just being friends?” 

He didn’t think Nines would say yes, but it was still good to hear, “Absolutely not.” 

“So we’ll just have to try not be fuck ups together. And go slow, so I don’t accidentally puree a billion dollar brain with my magic fingers.” 

“There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I’m not sure how to begin correcting it.” 

His number was called at the counter. Gavin got up and returned with a tray of pastry, coffee, and a cup of glossy orange tea.

“I didn’t order anything.” 

“It’s a seasonal special. Spiced orange nutmeg something. Figured you hadn’t tried that one yet.” 

Nines folded his hands around the mug and turned his gaze to the window. His LED flickered yellow and blue, yellow and blue, just momentarily as usual. 

“You’re never red.” 

That got his attention back, score for Gavin, “What?” 

“Your mood ring. Every android I’ve seen that keeps them goes blue and yellow and red. I’ve never seen you go red. You barely even let it get yellow. I mean, are you controlling that or is it just that you’re a zen motherfucker?” 

“I don’t have a mother.” 

Gavin rolled his eyes at him, “Fine, don’t tell me then.” 

“It doesn’t measure mood. It indicates processing of input.” 

“What’s the difference?” 

Nines didn’t respond. The croissant sandwich was pretty good, so Gavin concentrated on that while he waited. 

“Maybe there isn’t a meaningful distinction,” was the eventual reply. “I’m able to control myself more than others because of my design. I don’t ‘feel’ things as deeply or for as long.” 

“Beep beep beep.” 

“What?” Nines huffed. 

“Nothing, just my bullshit detector going off again.” 

“You should get it re-calibrated,” Nines narrowed his eyes. Yellow flicker. 

“You feel things or we wouldn’t be sitting here with me. Maybe you’re not going to break down in tears or whatever, but I’ve seen you sad and mad and all that,” he shrugged. “You said you don’t like sharing your experiences with the touch stuff, I kind of figured the light was the same thing.” 

“I hadn’t considered that,” which sounded almost more upset than anything else that had happened. “I had assumed I had perfect knowledge of myself.” 

“You and everyone else,” Gavin picked the egg off his sweatshirt, flicking it back onto the plate. “Until you start giving half your paycheck to a guy with a big degree to tell you what the fuck is actually going on in there.” 

“Do you think therapy works for androids?” 

There’s a snarky answer on his lips, but it died there with Nines piercing eye contact. 

“Uh, sure, why not? Probably some android with a shingle out already.” 

Blue, yellow, blue, “Yes. Interesting. There are several in the US, one in Detroit.” 

“Think that means interfacing with them?” 

“You tell your therapist things you wouldn’t tell your co-workers or strangers, correct?” 

“Yeah,” and holy shit, he really had straight up just admitted he had a therapist. Even Tina didn’t know that. Only Allie and that was by necessity. 

“Then I will manage as well. I have made an appointment for next week.” 

“Okay then,” he gave him a half-smile. “Don’t have to do that for me.” 

“Startlingly, the world doesn’t yet revolve around you.” 

“Yet.” 

“You are an insignificant speck in a near infinite universe.” 

“So are you,” Gavin brought his other leg closer to bracket Nines’ knee. 

On the walk back to the apartment, Nines took his hand without Gavin offering. The shitty cold rain kept coming down, but for once, Gavin didn't feel it. He was shrunk down to that single point of contact, warm and dry in the palm of Nines’ hand.


	8. Chapter 8

The zoo in January was fucking miserable. There was a crust of frost and half-melted greying piles of snow everywhere. Most of the cooler animals were inside and off display, sometimes with their android equivalents set out to replace them though that seemed less appealing these days. He tried not to wonder if android animals could be deviant. What would that even look like? 

The Mouse House was open though and apparently that was the important thing. He had a neatly wrapped present under one arm as he passed by an empty zebra pen and a lone android giraffe pacing the perimeter it’s pen. 

He saw them before they saw him. Jake was wearing a grey and white striped beanie and a gigantic rainbow puffy coat that could probably be seen from space. He’d gotten tall, the lankiness that preceded Gavin’s own horrid journey into puberty. Maybe the kid would get lucky and get Max’s height. Reeds just ran small. Toby was in a more subdued navy coat, but he was moving at twice the speed of his brother, chattering about something Gavin wasn’t close enough to hear. 

Allie sat on a bench, watching them. Her spotless cream hat and matching coat were a beacon in the grey mush. Her dark hair was loose around her face. Objectively, she did look older than the last time he saw her, but in his mind all he could see was a sixteen year old girl. 

“Hey, Allie-cat!” he said once he got close enough that he could no longer pretend to be going unseen.

She looked up and for a moment, he thought she might just stay there. Make him come to her and maintain the cool distance that she had worked so hard on. She should. That would be the smart thing to do. Maintain boundaries. 

But maybe she didn’t see his years either. Maybe, not matter what, some part of her saw that painfully tryhard ridiculous twenty-one year kid who helped her pack her shit into a duffel bag and let her give the middle finger to her last foster family as they drove away. 

“Gav!” She got to her feet and beamed at him. 

She hugged him. He really hadn’t been prepared for a hug and he probably held back too hard. When she pulled away, he was swallowing hard. His eyes prickled. Thought about a yellow light forced back to blue and managed a smile. 

“It’s really good to see you.” 

“It’s good to be seen,” she gave him a light slap on the arm. “Boys, Uncle Gavin is here!” 

They came more warily. Four years was a long time when that was half your lifespan. He’d become a stranger. 

“Happy birthday, Jake,” he extended the present to him. 

“Thank you,” polite, but Gavin hadn’t doubted that. Jake took the package. 

“Did you bring your badge?” Toby peered up at him. “Mama says you’ve got one.” 

“I do,” Gavin, reached into his pocket and pulled it out, opening it’s leather case. Toby studied it. 

“Can you break into whatever buildings you want?” 

“No,” he grinned. “We’ve got rules to follow too.” 

“Oh,” Toby seemed to consider that, rocking back on his heels. 

In the meantime, Jake had carefully unwrapped his gift and was handing the paper to Allie. For Christmas, Gavin had gotten him the video game Allie said he wanted which had involved a lot of simulated baking. So he’d gone out on the limb and tried to be a little creative. 

“Holy shit!” Jake yelped. 

“Language!” Allie’s eyes went wide. 

Gavin had to work hard to keep a straight face. Jake was staring down at the new streamlined Easy Bake Oven with wide eyes. 

“Apparently this one actually cooks things all the way through without trying to burn the tips of your fingers off,” Gavin shoved his badge back in his pocket. 

“I wonder if it makes anything edible,” Allie smiled, putting a hand on Jake’s back. “Tell you what, I’ll go put that in the car and you guys take Uncle Gavin through the Mouse House, okay?” 

“But you’ll miss the mice!” Toby looked scandalized. 

“I was there with you last month and you can tell me about anything new,” she assured him. 

It was ridiculous to be proud that she was leaving him alone with them for a few minutes, but he felt it anyway. Walking into the dark building with it’s little enclosures was great. Within a minute or two, Toby was grabbing at his sleeve and tugging him to look at this or that enclosure, rattling off facts about various tiny animals that looked the same to him in the dark. 

Jake was a little more subdued, but he stayed close and was good at spotting the small ones that were hidden in the displays. 

“Kind of surprised this is what you wanted to do for your birthday,” Gavin ventured when Toby had pressed his nose to a busy enclosure. 

“I had a sleepover with my friends over the weekend,” Jake took off his hat and jammed it in one pocket. “And Toby was really mad that he couldn’t hang out with us. So I told him, we could do this on my actual birthday.” 

“You’re a pretty great big brother, huh?” 

“Only sometimes,” Jake shrugged. “I already had a party, it’s no big deal. Mice are okay.” 

“Yeah, they are,” he kept his eyes on Toby. “Sometimes is better than never.” 

“Mom says that you’re better,” it was said matter-of-factly. “That when I was little, you got a sickness in your head and that’s why you yelled and punched the wall that one time.” 

Gavin flexed his fist in his coat pocket. He could barely remember that night. Too many hidden nips from the flask in his pocket. Max’s parents had been making subtle jabs at him all night. No one ever came out and said they disapproved of having a cop in the family, but it was clear in how they talked to him that they didn’t approve. Didn’t approve of his language either or the way he play-wrestled the kids. 

That was the year of the first missed holiday and the descent of silence. And he’d been too fucking blitzed on his own anger to realize why. He’d assumed Allie had picked them over him and that made perfect sense at the time. 

“She’s not wrong,” he sighed, forcing himself to relax his hand. “I was really angry about stuff that didn’t have anything to do with you. I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Wanna see me jump off this ledge?” 

“Yes, abso-fucking-lutely,” he winced. “Don’t repeat that.” 

“I won’t!” Jake laughed and jumped, his hair flowing out behind him like a shining banner in the dark. 

When they finally had exhausted the wonders of rodents, they went out to squint in the late afternoon sun. Allie was waiting for them, hands in her pockets. 

“Looks like the giraffes might be open to some visitors to their winter house if anyone’s interested,” she said casually, laughing when Toby punched the air and started down one of the winding pathways with Jake on his heels. “Put your hat back on, J!” 

“So, how’s work?” he asked, casting around for the neutral. 

“Ugh,” she huffed a laugh. “I’m interviewing at a new firm next week. New management are making things impossible. Max has decent insurance since he got tenure, so I can afford to try somewhere smaller for a bigger position.” 

“I thought you were on track for a partnership?” 

“You and me both,” she shook her head. “What about you?” 

“I’m sitting for the sergeant’s exam next month,” which still seemed implausible. Most would say if he was going to go for that, he probably should’ve done it five years ago. “I’ve been doing some family stuff. A department got dissolved and the only person working those cases is a pretty green officer. I’ve been subbing in while she’s out on maternity.” 

“Fuck, Gav,” she glanced at him. “DV and all?” 

“It’s been- okay, good is the wrong word. But I dunno. It’s not like homicide doesn’t do your head in or anything. I get to help kids, that’s pretty good.” 

“And it’s not triggering you?” 

“I didn’t say that. But Baraket says I’m dealing okay, probably because I get to do something about it. Tina says it’s because I’ve got a steel skull.” 

“Aw, how is Tina?” 

“Good. She’s probably gonna make detective before summer, been waiting long enough for it. Iris and her got their own place,” old news, but new for Allie. “It’s nice. Bigger than the cupboard she had before.” 

They found plenty of that kind of thing to talk about as the boys pinballed around the giraffes then the monkey house. Eventually, they came to the lone open vendor and got hot chocolates. The boys were talking a mile a minute with each other, ignoring the adults. Allie leaned over to tuck Toby’s ears back into his hat. It was such a small thing, but it was tender and sweet. 

“Hey,” he had practiced it with Dr. Baraket and then in the mirror, but it was still so hard to choke out, “I know my opinion doesn’t mean much, but uh, I’m really proud of you, Allie.” 

“Of course it means something to me!” she looked suckerpunched, eyes welling up “Jesus Christ, Gav.” 

“I mean, you just...you figured all of this out and you don’t let anything from our past slow you down. It’s pretty fucking amazing.” 

“Language,” her eyes darted to the boys then back to his face. “Thanks. But you know it’s not like I had magic or anything. I just did a lot of hard work. And I had something you didn’t.”

“What’s that?” he tensed, bracing for a dig. 

“I had you, dummy,” she kicked his shin lightly under the table. “You know what I think about all the time?” 

“No,” now he felt suckerpunched. Christ. 

“When I was seven, I called you because I was scared of the dog in the Fiennes' house. It was probably silly, he was so old, but just really big and growled a lot. I didn’t even have my own cell, I think I lifted it from one of the other kids,” she shook her head. “You’d made me memorize your number, remember?” 

He nodded numbly, remembering the rare stolen afternoon and drilling her over ice cream until she almost cried, “Yeah.” 

“You got on that P.O.S. bike you had and rode three miles in the middle of the night, even though you knew you wouldn’t even be allowed in. You just called really quietly to me and we talked through a window until I fell asleep.” 

He’d pedaled back in the dark, sick to his stomach that he had to leave her there. He remembered that too. And they’d been okay folks. Looked like they might even adopt her for a while before the husband got sick. 

“It wasn’t just the dog though,” he could still practically hear her thin voice, worn out through the window, “that was when Dad died.” 

“It was?” she frowned. “I thought I was older.” 

“March 23, 2019. I was supposed to sneak out and go to the Anarchy 2 Punk festival. When they called me downstairs, I figured they’d found my tickets or something.” 

“Mom! Can we go?” Toby whined. He had a chocolate mustache. 

“Yes, of course,” she got to her feet. “Walk us to the car?” 

The boys flew ahead again, but circled back around when they lost sight of their mother. The early winter sunset was starting to creep in. 

“You get my point though, right?” 

“What point?” he frowned. 

“About you,” she snorted. “I had you, Gav. You didn’t.” 

“Pretty sure I did.” 

“Don’t do that,” she shook her head. “I knew if I was scared or lonely or whatever, that you would come. I wasn’t alone. I think you were and that did things to you. Especially when you decided I didn’t need you anymore.” 

“I needed you more than you needed me,” he corrected. 

“I still needed my big brother, you-” Toby circled back, “sillyhead.” 

Gavin's laugh ripped out of him, “Yeah, I guess I was pretty silly.” 

“Look, you want to come over for dinner in a few weeks? Just a Friday night thing.” 

“Yeah,” he said immediately. “Of course.” 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Uh, yeah, actually. It’s kind of new though. Not meet the family yet.” 

“What’s his name?” 

“Nines,” he pulled his phone out, and found the only photo he had. 

They’d both had New Year’s Day off and they’d gone for one of Nines long walks. They’d stopped on an overpass, and Nines leaned against the railing. It was about as casual as he got and Gavin had insisted on a selfie. Neither of them were smiling, but Nines had his arm around Gavin’s shoulder, the faint blue light cast against the side of their faces. 

“He’s handsome,” Allie said lightly as she glanced at it. Then looked again. “He’s an android?” 

“A social worker,” he shoved the phone back in his pocket. 

“Okay, I mean when I said you needed to adapt that was not what I was thinking,” her eyebrows were practically in her hat. “What’s it like?” 

“What’s dating like with anyone?” he shrugged. “He’s a good guy. We have fun together.” 

“And he knows...” 

“All of it.” 

“Wow,” she shook her head, “that’s the Reed way, right? Just all in on whatever we decide.” 

“What other way is there?” 

It was hard to say goodbye. Some part of him didn’t believe that the dinner was coming. But he promised Jake he’d eat whatever he baked him when he saw him next anyway and gave Toby an epic high five. Allie didn’t hug him again, but she didn’t have to. She smiled and that was good enough. 

When he was safely back in his own car, he got everything on so that the Clash blared out of the speakers and he could just rest his head on the steering wheel and be for a long minute. He made himself take deep breaths and recited Miranda Rights. 

It was only when his heart stopped beating in his ears that he allowed himself to pull out. 

“Car, call Nines.” 

“Hello, Gavin,” his voice filled the small space. The last of Gavin’s tension bled out of him. 

“Hey, are you still at work?” 

“Yes, but I’m in the office and can take a break. How did it go?” 

“Good,” he said with some satisfaction. “I mean it was a lot, but it was good.” 

“Were any of your concerns founded?” 

“I mean the boys did sort of forget about me,” he may have spent a lot of time pacing the day before, when he should’ve been doing a dozen other things. “But no, you were right. Allie said some nice things even. About me.” 

“Good. You sometimes deserve that.” 

“Asshole,” Gavin grinned as he turned on the highway. “Want to come over and gloat about how right you were tonight?” 

“I would like that. We can watch the documentary I told you about.” 

“...fine,” he allowed. Nines had discovered a love of ‘How It’s Made’ style documentaries. Some of them were actually pretty interesting. Some of them had Gavin falling asleep out of sheer defense. But asleep on Nine’s shoulder was better than alone and watching something he liked. 

He did need a few things, so he made a stop at the corner store after parking his car. Nina, the android cashier, greeted him pleasantly when he came in. It didn’t take long to round up milk, bread and a fresh bag of treats for Caro. 

“Ultralights, double filtered?” she asked as he approached the counter. 

“You’re a star, thanks.” 

While she turned to unlock the case, he noticed a new display pulsing faintly blue. ‘Chew-It: The First Android-Safe Gum’. There were only a few packs left. 

“Isn’t it cool?” Nina said quietly, scanning his cigarettes. “We just got it in this morning.” 

“Did you try it?” 

“My boss let me have the first pack,” she nodded. “My model doesn’t have a lot of mouth sensors, but it was so different! The gossip is that it’s to help androids that want to get digestion modifications.” 

“Those exist?” 

“Not yet. But like I said, it’s all gossip, and part of the gossip is that it’s nearly ready. Since the settlement with Cyberlife, we’ve got so many blueprints and New Jericho has been doing some great things with them,” it was the most she had ever said to him. 

“That’s pretty cool,” he tapped a finger against the counter. “Could I get a pack?” 

“I don’t think it’s edible for humans,” she said, not exactly apologetically. Wary, maybe. 

“For my boyfriend,” he said without really meaning to. They hadn’t exactly agreed on the term. “He’s an RK, riddled with sensors, I think he might get a kick out of it."

“Oh!” her customer service smile dissolved into a real one, which was a little too big. “Sure. You know we sell thirium packets too if you want to have some on hand. I get a little low sometimes and it’s nice to know it’s around.” 

“Why not?” 

There were some moments of his life that still caught him off guard. Sliding clear packets of blue liquid in between the milk and leftover Thai was one of them. Who was he? How had he gotten here from the purity of a gun leveled at Connor’s center mass ready to fire? 

He took the gum out of the bag and after some thought just left it on the counter. It didn’t have any answers for him anyway. 

Instead, he and Caro had a romp with a bit of string until she got bored and let him idly pet her. Nines knocked on the door when he was vaguely contemplating getting off the floor. He hefted himself up and opened it, 

“Good evening, Gavin,” their hands slid together and then their lips, before Gavin stepped aside and let him in. 

“I’m going to give you a key,” he decided. “I could’ve stayed on the floor if you had a key.” 

“You’ve had a good day,” Nines determined. “You have on your ‘shit-eating’ grin.” 

“Fuck off,” he laughed and went back into the kitchen, deciding at least a soda was in order. “Get comfortable and put on your salt documentary or whatever.” 

“It occurred to me that you haven’t chosen in several days. It should be your turn.” 

“It’s fine,” Gavin waved him off, pouring coke into a mug. At least Nines didn’t know how weird some of his quirks were. Tina had made fun of him mercilessly when she discovered that preference. “I kind of just want to zone out anyway.” 

“Reduced to a pillow,” Nines sounded very put upon and Gavin his smile with a sip of soda. “I’m an extremely advanced machine, you know.” 

“Uh huh, can the extremely advanced machine put on the fucking movie or do you need a written invitation?” 

Nines gave him the finger which was always funny as hell. The perfect stiff erectness of it was the like Platonic ideal of a flip off. 

The movie wasn’t too bad, and Gavin stayed awake while the narrator detailed the history of underwear. He did rest his head on Nines’ shoulder after awhile. Until Gavin’s stomach betrayed him. 

“You didn’t eat dinner,” Nines heaved a sigh. “Does basic maintenance really require reminders?” 

“Ugh,” he buried his face in Nines’ shirt. “I had a late lunch.” 

“And now a late dinner,” Nines gave him a pointed shove, pausing the movie with a blink. 

“You can keep watching, I’ll just reheat something.” 

“And then you’ll eat it on the couch and get your crumbs all over me, absolutely not,” Nines stood which pretty much meant Gavin had to get up or collapse against the couch like a boneless disaster. 

“You suck,” he determined, but went into the kitchen to look at his options. Aware of Nines glaring at him, he eventually pulled out the last of the week’s vegetables and started chopping them up for a pasta sauce. 

“What’s this?” the pack of gum had apparently been discovered. 

“Oh, the corner store chick suggested it” 

“I see,” the internal packet of gum was deftly removed. It looked just like the chicklet style that nicotine gum came in. “I’d read something about it on the forums, but I wasn’t aware it was ready for purchase.” 

“New today apparently,” he shoved onion into a pan. 

“And you want me to try it?” 

“Thought you might want the option,” he started chopping up garlic, considered the pile then got another clove. “You want to give it to Connor instead, he’d probably be on it like white on rice.” 

“I’m sure he’s already procured some,” Nines considered it, turning it over and over. 

The onions softened, garlic next, then a sad bell pepper and some carrot. Can of diced tomatoes, salt and pepper. What would it be like to make these things without knowing how they tasted? Nines didn’t cook, but Connor did. Not just the Christmas dinner, but all sorts of cast offs that wound up in Gavin’s mouth. 

“Guess he’ll get the whole shebang if they come out with a digestion module, huh?” 

“It seems likely. There’s a very lively debate going on between several groups about whether or not creating such modules are beneficial. I believe we will see an increase in separatists as such things become available.” 

“What like android only communities?” 

“Yes. There are already small pockets of them. A building here or there, but it seems likely they will become entire communities eventually.” 

“I can get that,” he leaned against the counter, letting the sauce reduce, “wanting to just have your own spot.” 

“It may be detrimental to our overall acceptance,” Nine was still flipping the packet around in his hands, the foil catching the light. “To remove ourselves is to allow humanity to forget us.” 

“I don’t think that’ll happen. Plenty of androids like living with people, right? New Jericho was supposed to be that kind of android only thing and humans are buzzing in and out of there all the time, even if they don’t live there.”

“I was offered a room there,” which seemed like digression, but probably wasn’t, “when I first woke up.” 

“But you wanted to stick with Connor?” 

“No, I just...” the packet stopped. “I didn’t want to do that. To be separate. I wanted to force humanity to look at us as we were. As we were made. Not like chassists, but just as we were.” 

“I see you,” Gavin gave him a crooked smile. 

“Yes, your eyesight is nearly perfect,” Nines looked down at the packet and then popped one chicklet out of the pack. 

“Only nearly? 20/20, baby.” 

“You’re becoming slightly nearsighted. You will need glasses in a few years.” 

“Fuck you, I will,” Gavin frowned. “Will I?” 

“Yes. I think a rectangular pair would flatter your face.” 

They both looked at the piece of gum. Nines closed his eyes and popped it into his mouth. For a moment he just let it sit there. His light circled yellow then blue. Then he bit down once. And then again. Yellow, blue, yellow, blue... 

“It tastes cool,” Nines finally said, his eyes wide. “And fresh...I can still see the chemical breakdown, it doesn’t override my regular data stream. It’s not like regular data at all. I’m not sure how close it is to a human tasting things though.” 

“S’one of those ridiculous philosophy questions right? Like describing the color blue to someone who can’t see colors,” he turned to stir the sauce and put up a pot of water. “Like, that sounds how I’d describe mint, but I’ve got no idea if we’re really saying the same thing.” 

“It’s dissolving,” Nines announced. “That’s convenient.” 

Gavin glanced at him, “Uh, can I kiss you or is it toxic? Nina was pretty clear humans shouldn’t be chewing it.” 

“The chemicals have mostly been absorbed.” 

They’d been kissing a lot. Gavin didn’t think he’d ever been kissed this much, actually. There hadn’t been a lot of relationships between his high school boyfriend and now. Couple of guys that he’d had a standing arrangement with and while none of them the type of assholes that didn’t kiss, it hadn't been for fun or affection. That had been practical sex kissing. This was different, indulgent and soft.

So it wasn’t unfamiliar to bring their lips together. But it was new to have it taste like mint. Like Nines had stepped away to brush his teeth, something that he never actually had to do. He traced his tongue over Nines’ bottom lip, catching more of it, and enjoying the tiny hiccup in the hum of processors. 

“You taste minty,” he offered when they parted. 

They sat down at the table to eat, Caro insinuating herself onto Nines’ lap as Gavin gave him a fuller recap of the zoo visit. Nines told him about his caseload and the birthday party for Yvonne that ended in him pouring everyone into a cab at the end of the night. By the time Gavin was putting plates in the dishwasher, it was nearly ten. 

“Uh, you want to stay over tonight?” 

Nines tilted his head, “Yes. I think I’d like that.” 

They hadn’t really done that since the first time. They finished Nines’ movie first and then Gavin went about getting ready for bed. Usually this was when Nines would head out for a walk or home. Sometimes he would send Gavin pictures of things he’d seen. Nothing specific, just slices of lights in the dark or a storefront. They’d be there for him in the morning, never making his phone so much as vibrate. 

In his bedroom, Nines was already on the bed. He’d commandeered one of Gavin’s old t-shirts, black and a big hole in one armpit and seemed to be debating what to do with his pants. 

“You want some boxers?” Gavin offered. 

“...yes.” 

He handed over a pair then stood by the dresser as he shucked off his own pants, back to Nines. Was he looking? They hadn’t really been naked in front of each other either. There were so many bridges to unexplored land between them. Gavin usually slept in boxers and a t-shirt himself, on a good day. Bad days, he had to force himself to take off his boots and slept in his clothes. 

“Get the light?” 

Darkness fell, cloaking them both. There were blackout curtains on the one window, installed during a stint of night shifts. The spill of light from Nines’ LED gave the bed an unearthly glow. Gavin got under the covers and then lifted them. After a moment’s consideration, Nines got in. 

“Are you hoping to have sex?” Nines asked, laying stiffly a full foot away. 

“Honestly some small part of me is probably always hoping that, but that’s just how I’m wired,” he huffed. “I just want to be near you. I know you’ll probably be climbing the walls once I’m out, so you know, feel free to go whenever.” 

“Ah.” 

“Do I have to teach you to spoon or can you download that one?” 

“I assume you’re the little spoon,” Nines said smoothly. “Roll over.” 

“Why do you assume that?” he griped, even as he complied. “Is this a height thing?” 

Nines slid his arm around him, “No, it’s the fact that you clearly prefer to have something between your back and a doorway. You put your back to walls whenever you can as well.”

Fun insight that Gavin had not needed right before bed. Luckily, Nines was far better than a wall. Gavin could feel the faint vibration and warmth of his power source all along his back. His arm was stiff, just laying there. After a second, Gavin took Nines’ hand and guided it, resting it against his chest. He put his own hand over it. Better. 

“Gavin,” Nines lips were on the nape of his neck, not kissing just there. There was no breath to stir the tiny hairs. 

“Too much?”

“No.”

He closed his eyes, “Good.” 

It had been a long while since there was someone else in his bed. Depressingly, the last person had probably been Tina after a bender. This was way better than that. It took him some time to drop off, but he listened to that hum and caressed Nines’ fingers. When it finally tugged him under, he had a smile on his face. 

When he woke up (an hour before his alarm, fucking typical), they were still in the same position. Surprised, he turned over. Nines had his eyes closed, his light pulsing only faintly, an his arm unmoving where it lay over his body. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. No response. Okay then. He reached out and stroked one finger down Nines’ face. “You blue screen on me?” 

“No,” his eyes remained closed, “I must have gone into stasis.” 

“Are you talking in your sleep right now?” Gavin asked, amusement replacing the momentary fear. 

“I don’t sleep,” the hum kicked in and there were those baby blues. “I was merely re-starting some systems and cleaning out caches.” 

“Wonder if that’s like dreaming.” 

“I’ve been informed that they’re not dissimilar,” was the begrudging reply. 

“What? Really?” 

“When I go into stasis, there is a simulation that runs. It was formerly a garden, but I’ve replaced it with a recreation of the city. Sometimes components of it crop up that I did not intend. People. Places.” 

“Yeah, that sounds pretty close,” Gavin cupped a hand on his neck. “Thanks for staying.” 

“I find it...” blue, yellow, blue, “I like being with you.” 

“Even when I’m just being a lump?” 

“At least then you’re quiet.” 

“Asshole,” Gavin laughed and leaned in for a kiss, pleased to find himself obliged. 

“You have an erection.”

“Eh, yeah,” he sighed. “Get them in the morning. It’ll go away.” 

Silence descended and Gavin decided he should probably get out of bed, let the awkward dissipate. But when he went to move, Nines’ arm tightened around him. 

“I would like to touch you,” it was a hushed sentence, caught between them. 

“Okay,” he said senselessly. “I-yeah. Whatever you want.” 

They didn’t get undressed. Nines eyes never left his face. Just slipped his hand down Gavin’s boxers and after a few experimental passes, tightened his grip and gave a God tier handjob. Gavin gasped and groaned, came hard and a little faster than he’d like to admit. When he was limp against the mattress, Nines carefully wiped his hand on a tissue taken from the bedside table. 

“Jesus Christ,” Gavin breathed out a shuddering laugh. 

“I enjoyed that,” Nines declared. “I liked watching you.” 

Gavin’s dick gave a valiant twitch of interest, “You can do it again whenever. Can I touch you?“

“You know I don’t have genitals.” 

He knew now for sure. The smoothness against his ass last night had answered that question with a finality that probably should’ve come up before. 

“So what? Can still touch you, right?” 

So that’s how he spent the rest of the time before the alarm. They went slow in case Nines needed a pause to process, but it was glorious. Gavin kissed his neck, his arms, licked over those long graceful fingers which did some interesting things. He got a hand up under the t-shirt hem and rubbed slow circles over molded abs. Maybe it wasn’t like sex exactly, but Nines kept saying, “More...just more” when he checked in with him, so maybe it was close enough. 

“You need to get into the shower now to get to work on time,” Nines voice staticked out in the middle as Gavin licked a line from wrist to elbow. 

“Fuck work,” he grumbled, but he took it for the boundary it was and sat up. “You’re so goddamn hot.” 

“Thank you,” Nines didn’t move. “I think I will go back into stasis to regulate.” 

“You can stay as long as you want,” he leaned in and kissed him. “Lock the door if you leave. I’ll get you a key made soon.” 

When Gavin left for work there was still a beautiful android in his bed, wearing his clothes with his cat curled nearby. 

“Reed!” Fowler’s dulcet tones greeted him as he walked in the door. “Triple homicide, details on your computer. Get moving!” 

“You got it, boss!” he said jauntily, only half to see the bemused look on his Captain’s face. 

He tried not to whistle on his way out the door. His reputation was bad enough without adding morbid music making to the list.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a reasonably warm day and for the first time in months, Gavin was down to his shirt sleeves at work. Still a long sleeved black thermal, but it was two less layers then he’d needed with the world’s crappiest HVAC system. 

“All right,” he surveyed his team. Eugene, Martinez and Tina had out their tablet. This was fucking wild. “What’s the day like? Martinez, you first.” 

“I’ve got patrol this morning, and I’m with Yvonne this afternoon for a possible home removal.” 

“Great, Eugene?” 

“Quiet night, uh, I’m almost caught up on paperwork. Went through the tiplines for that hit and run from a few nights ago, there was a license plate match to a DV case from a few months ago,” he shifted his weight, blinking slow. Poor kid had pulled the short straw on night shifts for awhile, but it’d probably be good for him. “I sent the info on to you.” 

“Great. Detective Chen?” he said just to watch her preen a little. 

“I can take that lead. I’m dead-ended on a few other things, could use fresh eyes.” 

“Got time to do some reading today,” Martinez offered. 

“Thanks. And I’m due in court at three today. Should be an in and out.” 

“Let me know how it goes,” he made a note. “All right, I’m riding the desk today. Call in if you need anything.” 

They scattered and he headed for his desk. He hadn’t asked for a relocation. Sergeants didn’t get their own office and he liked his spot on the floor anyway. It let him see all the comings and goings. 

Like Anderson and Connor marching into Fowler’s office with the new head of vice. Gavin tracked them, then dismissed them, turning his attention to the written statement he had to submit on a particularly ugly case that had come in on his first day in his new position. 

Another man might not have clocked the door opening and the P.I. duo re-emerging, but Gavin’s anxieties had their uses and he noticed despite his immersion in his work. He kept tabs on them, watching Connor split away towards another part of the building and Anderson...just kept coming. 

Great. He steeled himself for an argument, a ready insult on his lips. Anderson looked better than he had in years, more like the detective that Gavin had met as a rookie. Cleaned up and less puffy with booze, not the man that Gavin had learned to sneer at. 

“What?” he snapped as Anderson finally came to a rest in front of his desk. 

“I heard you made sergeant.” 

“Yeah,” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “What of it?” 

“Good to know it’s really improved your attitude,” an aggrieved sigh and Gavin’s blood was instantly hot. “I’ve been told to invite you to dinner as a congratulations.” 

They stared at each other. Gavin thought he might be having a fucking stroke. Or Anderson was. 

“I’m the last person you want in your house,” he said finally. “What the fuck?” 

“Not the last, but you make the short list,” Anderson agreed, which felt almost normal. “Connor wants to mend bridges or some shit.” 

“I almost shot him in the fucking face,” if Gavin had an LED it would be spinning red red red. “And I didn’t apologize.” 

“Yeah. That definitely did happen.” 

They stared helplessly at each other. 

“This about Nines?” 

“Yeah. That’s my best guess.” 

“...fine,” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. If Nines wants to, then I will.” 

“That really is a thing, huh? You and him?” 

It still felt so private, even though Gavin made no real attempts to hide it. His team knew and his sister. Some of Nines’ co-workers. And Nina, who had somehow become Gavin’s android gossip girl. But not people like Anderson, just unaffiliated jerks out in the world. 

“Yeah.” 

“Huh.” Gavin waited for Anderson to add something shitty to that. He’d certainly earned it. “Seven o’clock. Bring those potatoes Chen is always on about.” 

And then he was gone like the Ghost of Assholes Present ceding to Paperwork of Assholes Past. 

They hadn’t agreed to meet up that night, but when he clocked out Gavin’s car just took him to Nines’ building. There was a light on in the living room window so he was definitely home. Gavin had keys, but they were new and he hadn’t used them uninvited yet. 

_hey, can I come up?_

_yes_

As he climbed the stairs, he could hear a faint strain of music. Not exactly a melody, but working on resolving itself into one. He let himself in. 

Nines was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs. He had a guitar in his lap, a beautiful acoustic with a deep varnish. He was playing carefully, a slow pick over the notes. He didn’t pause as Gavin came in. 

He sat down in the other chair, leaned his chin on his hand and watched. It was strange. Nines missed notes, went back and tried again. There was probably some software he could download and become an instant master, but apparently that wasn’t the goal. It was sort of reassuring. 

Some internal chime sent off and Nines came to a slow stop, fingers easing off the strings. He didn’t put the guitar down, but he did finally look at him. 

“Hello, Gavin.” 

“Hey,” he offered his hand and Nines took it. “Sounds good.” 

“It’s frustrating,” Nines looked down at the guitar. “But satisfying too.” 

“That why you’re learning the slow way?” 

“Yes. It seems that music must come from a place of feeling as well as technique. I originally just downloaded technique, but it didn’t sound correct. Learning it seems to be helping the sound.” 

“Huh. Cool. When did you start?” 

“Several weeks ago. I did not plan on telling you until I was better.” 

“That’s too bad,” Gavin raised his eyebrows, “because you look hot as fuck right now.”

“Really?” Nines blinked. 

“Musicians are hot. I don’t make the rules.” 

Nines’ bedroom had become as familiar as his own. The bed had been naked the first time he saw it, but by the second go around there were soft dark sheets and a thick dark green comforter. A nightstand had manifested too, somewhere for Gavin to keep a glass of water. He had a change of clothes in the nearly empty drawers. Most of Nines’ clothes were hung neatly in the closet. 

Their bodies were becoming less mysterious to each other. It still wasn’t as straightforward as having sex with a human, but it had it’s own pleasures. He had made this person built to be inviolable as a brick and logical as a calculator turn into a pliable, senseless heap. He had done that without a guide, except his own instincts and Nines staticked out input. 

There was no real crescendo with Nines’ pleasure, no orgasm to speak of, but he often just grew too sensitive, overwhelmed and that seemed to mean almost the same thing. They lay besides each other after, Gavin sweating and Nines’ hair a little rumpled. The comforter had had the worst of it, tumbled off the bed entirely. 

“Should I expect the same reaction every time you see me play?” 

“Only the first hundred or so times,” Gavin hummed, carefully not touching him. It was better to let Nines decide when he was ready to cuddle. “Probably get old after that.” 

“Why did you come over?” Because Nines never did him the courtesy of forgetting which was a pain. Being held accountable was really something. 

“I got a weird invitation today.” 

“Oh?” Nines moved closer, not touching, but close enough that Gavin could hear the hum of him. He probably shouldn’t have told him how much he liked that. 

“Anderson and Connor want me to come over for dinner on Friday.” 

“Do they?” and there was steel there. Nines’ razor thin anger always made Gavin wonder what kind of cop he would’ve been. 

“Yeah, shocked the hell out of me. I mean, I guess the invitation is for you too. Anderson wasn’t exactly chatty about it.” 

Yellow, blue, yellow, blue. Silence and then, “Connor is a little shit.” 

Gavin cackled, “Yeah, he kind of is. What now?” 

“He assumed that if he could get you to agree to go, I would naturally come with you.” 

“I thought he’d already asked you,” he shrugged. “We can tell them to fuck off if you want.” 

“You said yes.” 

“Yeah, we can say I got a concussion or something. Or I changed my mind. Or joined a cult, whatever.” 

“That would be rude.” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a really rude person. Just sort of built that way.” 

“I’m not sweet and I don’t have a heart.” 

“Sure you don’t,” he swiped a hand over his face. That would teach him to use an endearment that wasn’t an insult. “So what do you want to do?” 

“We’ll go. Can you be civil with Connor? He’s trying and I think I hurt his feelings enough for the both of us.” 

“No promises, but I’ll give it the ole college try.” 

“You didn’t go to college.” 

“Yep.”

“Great.”

What a merry little disaster. Gavin made mashed potatoes which were frankly the easiest thing in the world to make, he had no idea why people made such a big deal over it. He even put it in a decent bowl instead of chucking it into a piece of tupperware. He didn’t wear anything ripped or stained. He combed his hair. 

Nines picked him up with the intent of coming back to stay the night. Or maybe strand him in the middle of nowhere to walk if Gavin was too much of a dick. 

The house was normal looking on the outside. The yard was muddy from the recent rains, enormous dog prints pressed into it. Nines didn’t get out of the car right away, so Gavin sat with him. 

“I could just eat these with a takeout spoon by the river if you want to ditch,” he tapped his finger against the bowl. 

“No,” Nines glanced at him. “No. We should go in.” 

“You first.” 

The front door opened. 

“We’ve been made,” Gavin whispered, “flash me the signal if you want me to create a distraction.” 

“Shut up,” Nines opened the car door while Gavin snickered and followed him up the pathway. 

“Hello Nines!” Connor waved enthusiastically and more soberly, “Hello, Sergeant Reed.” 

“Might as well call me, Gavin,” he decided. “Or this is going to get into some weird roleplaying shit pretty fast.” 

Nines made a new noise, something between a laugh and a groan of deep despair. 

“You brought potatoes,” Connor seemed to latch onto that and took the bowl from him, returning into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Anderson was sitting on the couch. “Basketball?” 

“Oh thank god,” Gavin muttered and plunked down on the armchair at the furthest point in the room from Anderson. “Who’s winning?” 

“Bulls.” 

“Shit.” 

Anderson tipped his drink (a soda apparently, what the fuck?) at him. Nines hovered for a brief moment, before moving through to the kitchen, leaving them with an age old way of dealing with awkwardness: not talking. 

They managed to have the most agreeable twenty minutes in a shared space they’d ever had. 

“Dinner is ready,” Nines announced like he was delivering a death sentence. 

“Great,” Anderson got up without any of the old man groans he’d been making for the last few years. 

Gavin trailed after him. The kitchen was normal looking, average middle class stuff, but the table was set like a restaurant with the silverware perfectly parallel and paper napkins folded into origami shapes. Nines was already sitting, looking vaguely bored and Gavin sat down beside him. His napkin was folded in the shape of a cat. 

“Nice,” he glanced at Nines. 

“It’s simple, I’ll show you how,” he muttered. 

“Thanks for making dinner, Con,” Anderson was eyeing the dishes Connor had warily. “What’s it going to be tonight?” 

“I thought it best to stick to things you have already enjoyed,” Anderson visibly relaxed and wasn’t that a fun wrinkle that Gavin hadn’t considered? “Tempura shrimp and vegetables.” 

That sounded fine. Most of the things Nines had brought from Connor were fine. Gavin mostly stayed away from seafood. Outside of fishsticks and tuna fish sandwiches, it hadn’t been on the menu much as a kid. As an adult, he’d probably been less adventurous then he should’ve been. 

Come to think of it, had he ever actually eaten shrimp? Maybe not. Detroit wasn’t exactly the seafood capital of the world. Well, at least that would be distracting. 

“Congratulations on your promotion, Gavin,” Connor said evenly once the food was set out. He and Nines both had thirium in a wine glass. Nines was not touching his and Gavin doubted he would. 

“Thanks.” 

“Sergeant’s exam was tough,” Anderson conceded. 

“I had a good study partner,” he glanced at Nines. Solid blue. 

“Yeah, robbed us of our card playing parties,” Anderson dove into the food. “We used to have a pretty good poker game going.” 

“They both lost,” Nines shrugged. “Frequently. It’s fortunate we played with candy instead of money.” 

“Who plays poker with you and thinks anything else is gonna happen?” Gavin skewed a shrimp on his fork, glancing at Anderson to figure out how to attack it. 

“My odds are equally good,” Connor sounded a little put out. Ha. 

“Nah,” he decided, finally taking a bite. “Bet you give it all away.” 

“I’m a trained negotiator,” that was definitely a pout. 

“Nines once let a kid puke on him and then convinced the kid it was practically a favor. Sometimes it’s not training.” 

And Connor didn’t seem to take it as a critique, instead he turned his gaze back to Nines. Their lights flashed yellow, clearly having some kind of psychic conversation. Gavin looked to Anderson, who rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and that was kind of funny. He didn’t laugh, but he finished off the shrimp and started making a go at the rice. 

“I’m not withholding things from you.” The words came out of nowhere breaking the fragile silence. Nines’ light was doing it’s yellow blue yellow blue dance. 

“I didn’t say you were,” Connor looked exhausted. “I just wish that you felt comfortable talking to me.” 

“Why?” It was a fractious, demanding kind of why. 

Discreetly as he could, Gavin slid his hand to Nines under the table. He assumed it would be ignored, but instead, Nines took it and held on. 

“Because I care about you.” 

“That’s fine. But that does not entitle you to additional information. We speak often.” 

“C’mon,” Anderson set down his fork. “Let the guy alone, Con. Not everyone likes to share as much as you.” 

That was kind of nice, but Nines didn’t acknowledge it. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Gavin set down his fork. There was something spicy in the batter he hadn’t detected earlier. It was making his throat itch. 

“I agreed to this dinner because I thought it was a kind gesture, but I see this is another way to provoke me into displays that I’m not interested in demonstrating.” 

“That’s not what I intended,” Connor started. 

“But it’s what you-” 

Very abruptly both androids turned on him which was more than a little unsettling in stereo. And he hadn’t said a goddamn word!

“What?” he started to say, but it didn’t make it out of his throat. 

“I’m calling emergency services,” Connor said immediately. 

“Again?” Anderson looked down at the food suspiciously. “We’ve gotta find you a new hobby.” 

“Gavin is having an allergic reaction,” Nines said calmly, taking his arm. 

“I am?” he tried to say, but his throat was getting tight. Everything fucking itched. 

“Why didn’t you tell me he had a shellfish allergy?” Connor was also moving to his side, Nines putting up a hand to hold him back. 

“I didn’t know, I would assume that he didn’t either,” Nines grabbed Gavin’s chin, “breath.” 

He was trying. It was much harder than he remembered. He stopped being aware of what was going on everywhere else. Everything narrowed down to the blue depths of Nines’ eyes and his hold on his arms. 

The last thing he could recall was the glow of red light cast over pale skin. 

When he came to, it was in the emergency room. A place he was all too accustomed too, though at least lately not as the patient. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. 

“Hello, Sergeant Reed,” a nurse he was familiar with swam into view, “you’ve had a nasty allergic reaction, but we’ve got you mostly settled now. Do you need to vomit?” 

He did, actually. Clarity rushed back in as he sat back and wiped his mouth off on a provided paper towel. There was no sign of Nines and Connor, just Anderson sitting in a chair looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Guess me and him are even,” Gavin said. 

“What?” Anderson frowned. 

“We’ve both almost killed each other now.” 

“That is not even, you dumb fuck,” Anderson rolled his eyes. “You were going to shoot him because you didn’t like anyone one upping you. And it’s not his fault you never had an allergy panel done up. What’s wrong with you?” 

“You want it alphabetically or as an unordered bulleted list?” he scoffed. 

“I want my boot up your ass, is what I want,” but there was no anger in it. “You scared the shit out of us.” 

“Not my favorite moment either,” his mouth tasted awful and there was definitely a headache incoming. “Where’s the twins?” 

“Probably still arguing outside,” Anderson glanced at the door like he might spot them. “You might’ve noticed they don’t always get along.” 

“Nines pretty much said so.” 

“You got a grip on why?” and the question sounded genuine. 

“It’s Nines to figure out and talk about,” he shrugged. “I just listen. Siblings are complicated even if you aren’t born with them, I guess.” 

“Sure,” Anderson nodded. “Want to know what I think?” 

Gavin didn’t answer. Classic technique and it probably shouldn’t work if you knew it, but turned out everyone is human in the end. Anderson filled the silence, 

“They programmed Nines to kill Connor. And some of that never goes away, no matter how much Connor wants to believe it does. There are traces of programming that no one can scrub away.” 

“Nines doesn’t want to kill him,” he snorted. 

“No, but I imagine if that was your aim in life and it gets taken from you, it leaves one hell of a weird void. Same with Connor. He did just as much for the revolution as anyone else, but he never goes to anything. Not a speech, not a ribbon cutting. Doesn’t answer interview questions. The idea that he helped change the world doesn’t comfort him, even though it makes him happy. You get me?” 

“No,” Gavin sort of wanted to throw up again, but he wasn’t doing it in front of this man agan. “I mean, yeah, I get what you're saying, but no. No one works harder than Nines does to get over that shit. Every day he’s doing a job no one intended him to do and he’s fucking awesome at it. He....it’s private, okay? But he’s trying so hard. Just rebuilding himself from the ground up.” 

“He know you think that?” 

“Yeah,” he looked away, butterflied open. Fuck, he should’ve just vomited that would’ve been less embarrassing. 

“Aw, kid.” 

“I’m not a fucking kid,” he grunted. 

“Gavin,” Nines was in the doorway. “How are you feeling?” 

“Not great,” he admitted. “Take me home?” 

“As soon as the proper procedures have been followed.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“Yes,” Nines brushed by Anderson. “But if you leave now, you may not be well enough for your weekly cliff dive.” 

Gavin laughed, “Can’t miss that. You okay?” 

“No. Not really.” 

“Sorry,” he set his hand out and Nines took it, locking on hard like he had before the dinner went entirely sideways. “I didn’t know.” 

“Your records have been updated. Adult onset allergies are not uncommon. You should have a full work up done to make sure it’s not just shellfish. You will also carry an epi-pen with you from now on.” 

“Kay,” he set his forehead on Nines’ shoulder. 

He didn’t know when Anderson left. Only that when the doctor came in, the chair was empty for Nines to sit in and listen carefully to everything they said. Then he bundled Gavin up and took him home like a package, depositing him directly into his bed. He heard the shuffle of cat food and Caro’s scolding meow, before the bed dipped and Nines was there beside him. 

Nines didn’t touch him and Gavin didn’t try to reach out. It was enough that he was there.

Morning dawned grey and disinterested. He did wake up with a headache and what he figured was some weapon’s grade benadryl hangover. Nines opened one eye, probably scanned him, got up and returned with water and painkillers. 

“Thanks,” he croaked, sitting up to take them. “Hey, first date throwback.” 

“We had a first date?” Nines frowned and sat back down beside him. 

“I guess it didn’t count, but you know how we met and all,” he slugged back the water. “You gave me first aid stuff then too.” 

“We were certainly not dating then,” Nines brushed the side of his hand against his thigh. Boundary broken, Gavin slumped against him. 

“The concert then?” 

“Mm, yes I think that makes more sense.” 

“We should go again this year.” 

“I’d like that.” 

Gavin closed his eyes, “I’m sorry for ruining the dinner or whatever.” 

“I think for once, you are entirely absolved of guilt.” 

“Yeah? Huh, that’s good. You want to talk about why you and Connor almost threw down instead?” 

“No.” He might fall back asleep just like this. “Do you believe what you said to Hank?” 

“Mm? Depends, what did I say?” 

“That I’m more than my programming, ultimately.” 

“Eavesdropping, huh?” He yawned. “Yeah, of course I meant it. You know you are, don’t need me to say it.” 

“What if Hank is right? What if it is because I was programmed to kill him that Connor and I can’t get along?” 

“Where’s this coming from?” And why did it have to happen at ass o’clock in the morning? “You told me yourself that you don’t like how he wants you to be like him.” 

“What if that is just what I tell myself?” 

“Are you asking me if you’re lying to yourself? I don’t really have a way of knowing that.” 

“I know,” Nines shifted, drawing his arm around Gavin’s shoulders. “I don’t want to fight with him, but we always do.” 

“Told you before, that’s just sibling stuff. And I really don’t care if I never set foot in that house again, so you do what you need to do.” 

“Yes, it does seem to be a poor beginning to double dating,” Nines huffed. His light was blue, no sign of struggle or processing. “He has been trying to call me for the last several hours.” 

“You letting him go to voicemail?” 

“No,” a thin thread of amusement and Gavin opened his eyes again. 

“What’re you doing?’ 

“I am sending him different looking data packets that all contain a song.” 

“...are you rickrolling Connor with your megabrain?’ 

“Yes,” he said with some satisfaction. 

“Holy shit, I love you.”

It fell like a rock between them and Gavin winced. 

“I don’t know if I can return the sentiment,” Nines hold around him only tightened. “If I’m capable.”

And it’s not that that didn’t hurt. Gavin felt it hit like a bullet against his issued vest. Not penetrating, but leaving a wicked brise. But, 

“My Dad told me he loved me. Looked me right in the eye and said it. He had a lot of big feelings. Love. Hate. He’d tell me he love me and then he’d hit me so hard I couldn’t go to school the next day,” he shrugged. “It’s just a word.”

“But I may never feel it.” 

“You want to end this relationship?” 

“No,” Nines said it so quickly it almost chopped off the end of ‘relationship’. 

“You want to change anything?” 

“No.” 

“So...I don’t know what to tell you. You make me feel loved, so what the hell does it matter as long as we’re both happy?” 

Nines pressed his lips to Gavin’s temple, “I didn’t know I did that.” 

“Yeah, idiot,” he rolled his eyes, “cause everyone in my life makes sure that I eat and asks me how my day was and puts up with me jabbing them with a pencil to find their reset button.” 

“That last one was extremely annoying.” 

“Yeah, but you let me do it cause you knew I had a shitty day and it was making me laugh.” 

“Maybe,” Nines grip didn’t relax and Gavin decided not to point out that it was a little harder than was strictly human comfortable. 

“We watch each other’s backs, keep each other company and try to make each other feel good. I’m not asking for anything else.” 

“All right,” Nines relaxed fractionally. 

“Still going to tell you though. Now and then,” Gavin decided. 

“Why? If you know I won’t say it back?” 

“Why not?” Gavin shifted over, piling himself into Nines lap, staring him down. “Gonna make me stop?” 

Nines huffed and pulled him in closer, “You’re worse than your cat.” 

“Aw, that’s sweet.” 

So all in all, Gavin felt pretty okay about nearly dying over family drama and shellfish. Apparently Connor’s guilt overrode whatever last bit of a grudge he had because a very nice apology basket full of office supplies arrived at his desk the next day. There was a card nestled into the middle of post-its and while Gavin kind of wanted to hate on it, but he really did need more paperclips. Supplies in theory were help yourself, but Nancy from Accounting sat in front of it and she (probably for good reason) hated him. 

The note read, 

_Dear Sergeant Reed, Apologies for the shrimp. Perhaps we can try again. Regards, Connor._

Underneath there was an untidy postscript, _you remind of an okay rookie I knew once. Glad to see you found him again. - Hank_

Gavin ran his thumb over the edge of the note. He contemplated ripping it up. Throwing it out. Instead, he tucked it in his desk drawer and got back to work.


	10. Epilogue

The apartment was nearly empty. Gavin stood in the center of the living room, at a loss. He had walked through and gathered the last few stray items into the last box. Most of his furniture was already gone. Caro had been settled in for a week, coating everything with fur. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“It’s open,” he figured it was a neighbor hunting around for any last giveaways. 

“Wow.” 

He pivoted, “Allie! What’re you doing here?” 

“I thought I’d help out, Nines said you could use a hand.” 

“Yeah, this morning maybe,” he shook his head, reaching out to hug her. “Thanks though. If you want, you can follow me to the new place and help unpack a little. Have some dinner.” 

“That sounds good,” she squeezed his arms as she pulled away. “I can’t believe you're finally going.”

“Yeah, me neither.” 

“Jeez, you never got this stain out, huh?” she pointed to the splotch of dark blue on the floor. 

She’d been sixteen and begging to dye her hair. He didn’t have the money for a salon, so they’d done it together. He hadn’t known to put down plastic. It came out okay, though when the blue faded it went green for a while. He could practically smell the bleach now, the way the gloves had made his hands sweat, and she had been so nervous about him fucking it up. 

There was the mark on the wall too, where he’d put his fist through the plaster during some argument or another. He’d fixed it himself, the patch still a condemnation every time he walked by it. There were scuff marks in the second bedroom from her desk chair where she’d lean back and call out the door for homework help. Like he remembered anything from pre-calc or even taken AP American History. But he’d always gone in and tried anyway. Sometimes she’d push the chair back into his stomach, letting him take all her weight while she made exasperated noises at him. 

It had been a home once. It wasn’t anymore. 

“Nah,” he looked away from the stain. “Not like I was ever getting the security deposit back anyway.” 

He drove from his old place to the new, occasionally glancing up to see her in the rear view mirror. She was singing along to something on the radio, and bouncing a little in her seat. It was ridiculous with her perfectly coiffed hair, sensible blouse, and respectable SUV. He smiled despite himself. 

The apartment wasn’t far from Nines’ old place. It bordered on a small park, lush in the summer sun. There was a basketball court that he was eager to scope out. Nines had already discovered an android-only pick up game that Gavin was looking forward to spectating if he was allowed.

They were on the top floor. Neither of them made huge amounts of money, but Nines didn’t have a lot of expenses and Gavin had gotten so in the habit of saving that he had a good amount in the bank. They could afford the better view and the small balcony. 

“Not bad,” Allie declared as they got in the elevator, both of them holding boxes.

“Yeah, Nines found it on one of his walks,” they soared upwards.

They were the left hand corner of the floor, the door propped open by a boot. 

“Hey, Gav!” Tina leaned her head out, “the living room is almost done, but Nines won’t let us in the main bedroom so we’re taking a break.” 

“Good for him,” he dropped the box by the front door, indicating Allie to do the same. 

“Holy shit, Allie!” Tina grinned wide, “Look at you. Haven’t seen you in ages.” 

“Hi Tina,” Allie went in for a hug and Gavin had to look away. It was too good a day to get sentimental. 

Iris was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with Caro in her lap, “She’s a polite lady. I thought she’d bolt with the door open.” 

“Nah, she knows what’s up,” Gavin sat down next to her. “Thanks for helping out.” 

“Not like your boyfriend left us much to do. I just piled some towels into a cabinet and called it good.” 

“Where is he anyway?” he craned his neck back and could sort of see into the bedroom which appeared empty. 

“He took out some trash a few minutes ago.” 

The trash chute was at the end of the hall. Gavin got his phone out. 

_where are you?_

_Connor and Hank are here. They want to help._

_you good?_

There was a long pause then, _yes. they’re coming up. Hank knows a pizza place nearby._

“Fuck, ok,” he sighed and opened up his notes app. “Pizza orders start now.” 

“Oh, can we get olives?” Allie sat on the couch behind him, folding her legs into a pretzel so she could drum on his head with her fingers. 

“No,” he snorted. “Save your briny black death cheerios for home.” 

“I like olives,” said Iris. 

“Traitor,” he mumbled, but added it in. 

By the time they’d ironed that out, Anderson and Connor were walking through the door. 

“Huh, there’s two of them,” Anderson stopped abruptly, looking at Allie. 

“Excuse me?” Allie’s eyebrows went up to her hairline. 

“I’m sorry,” he raised a hand defensively, “I heard about you some, but I didn’t realize you and Gavin looked so much alike.” 

“We don’t,” they chorused. 

“You do,” Nines slid into the room and sat down next to Gavin. “You have a similar face shape, skin tone, and your eyes are almost identical.” 

Gavin looked up at Allie and she looked down at him. 

“Nah,” she flicked the end of his nose. “I’m way prettier.” 

“I disagree,” Nines said with a flicker of a smile. 

“As is your right,” Gavin grinned at him. 

“I thought this was a moving in thing,” Anderson looked wearily over the group. “Are we getting boxes unpacked or what?”

Gavin waited until Nines and most of the humans had gone into the second bedroom before grabbing up a particular box that he’d purposely loaded towards the end. 

“Can I be of any help?” Connor asked and Gavin almost threw something at him in surprise. 

“Fuck, you all need bells,” he huffed. “But yeah, can you nail in this hook where the pencil mark is?” 

He passed him the picture hook and held out the hammer, but instead Connor just placed in carefully and shoved it in with his thumb. Sometimes Gavin forgot what was going on under those ridiculous doe eyes. 

Gavin ripped the plastic off the bulletin board and hung it up. He’d debated location, but over the kitchen table felt right in the end. Then he started pulling things out of the folder he’d tucked at the bottom and tacking them up. 

Connor got the gist quickly, and together they laid out drawings and cards. There were even some photos and holiday postcards from the year before, though Gavin suspected there would be far more this year. 

“These are all addressed to Nines,” Connor observed as he set the last in place. The larger board had been the right choice. There was still room for plenty of things before they’d have to start layering up. 

“Yeah, he was keeping them at his desk at work,” Gavin took a step back, but Connor stayed there. “I got Yvonne to smuggle them out to me.”

“These are from children he’s helped.” 

“Uh huh. He keeps track of their birthdays and stuff, sends cards and little presents. Whether they're in the system or not. Usually he gets something back. And sometimes he just gets them because. Kids are like that.” 

Connor smoothed down one drawing that had gotten a little wrinkled in the delivery process. It was a little girl holding hands with a tall stick figure, a bundle of blue lines shooting out from the side of the head. 

“I’m proud of him,” Connor shook his head. “But I don’t think there’s a way to tell him that without him thinking I’m being condescending.” 

“Probably not,” Gavin agreed. “People are tricky shits like that.” 

“Gav! Is this box that says nightstand safe to open?” 

“Fuck off, it’s just my alarm clock,” he ambled away leaving Connor to stare at the board. 

They ate pizza in a lumpy tangle around the room, Connor and Nines having gone out to the balcony to talk about who knew what while the humans stuffed their faces. Anderson had gotten Allie talking about work and seemed content to listen to her. She was smiling at him, taken in by whatever charm the man had that Gavin had never been able to detect. Whatever. 

“Hey, we got you a housewarming gift,” Iris pulled a frame out of her bag. A picture of last friendsgiving was nestled inside. One he hadn’t known was taken. Him and Nines were elbow to elbow at the kitchen sink. 

There was no way he’d known then how close they’d been standing and how tender the look Nines was giving him as he was mid-sentence about some nonsense or another. It was fucking sickening and he wanted to keep it for the rest of his life. 

“Thanks,” he got up and set it next to the small clusters of other photos on the tv stand. 

Food polished off, the party began to break up. Iris and Tina left first, handing out hugs every which way before easing down the hallway. Anderson heaved himself up, went out to the balcony and came back with Connor, who followed him along like a balloon on a string as they left. Their goodbyes were cursory, at best, but that was just fine by Gavin. 

Nines stepped back inside, cool as a cucumber, so Gavin didn’t have to chase down Connor and attempt to kill him and most likely die in the process. 

“Good talk?” 

“Good enough,” Nines shrugged. 

“I should go too,” Allie got to her feet. “I was hoping to ask a favor though.” 

“Anything,” Gavin said too quickly, then clacked his teeth together. 

“Max has a conference next month. Just a few days in Chicago, but I was thinking about joining him after and having a weekend. It’s been a long time when we could be alone, just the two of us,” she looked between the two of them. “Would you take the boys for a few nights?” 

Gavin wanted desperately to say yes, but this wasn’t just his place. And maybe that first impulse was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet, still potentially dangerous or too much. Maybe he should say no.

“We would enjoy that,” Nines said smoothly. “The guest bed we chose has a trundle bed that pulls out, so they should both be comfortable.” 

Gavin hadn’t chosen shit. Nines had bought that guest bed, suggesting it would be wise to have one if Gavin and Tina had one of their drunk nights. This was the first he was hearing about the trundle. Slippery con artist. 

“Yeah, we would,” Gavin added on. “Just send me the dates so I can make sure to be off.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled brightly at them. She gave Gavin a hug and then turned to Nines. “Can I hug you too?” 

“I’d like that,” Nines embraced her and he almost made her disappear. 

They didn’t look that much alike, Gavin still contended. But he thought maybe he had an idea of how he and Nines might look to an outsider. A tall stiff pale body, bending to accommodate a shorter one, broader one, creating a protective shell. 

“Night, fellas. Enjoy the new place!” she gave Nines arms a squeeze as she pulled away, then headed for the door. 

When it closed behind her, Gavin turned on him, “Did you know she was going to ask us? Is that why you bought that bed?” 

“I bought it because I was hopeful,” Nines raised his eyebrows. “Problem?” 

“...no,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks.”

“The bulletin board was nice, by the way. Thank you for that.” 

“It’s no big deal. You shouldn’t have to hide that in a folder.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, stymied in the fresh paint scented air. 

“You’re tired. You should go to sleep.” 

“It’s not even nine o’clock, c’mon.” 

Nines slid his hand up Gavin’s arm, “Come to bed.” 

“Should’ve led with that.” 

Their new bedroom was a compromise. Gavin had let go of his blackout curtains, instead there were silky dark blue swaths of fabric that could be drawn up to let in light during the day. Caro’s cat tree was wedged under it and she was already asleep, her nose whistling a little. The bed and mattress was his, but Nines’ comforter and sheets had won the day. His old Ikea bedside tables had been set out as freebies for neighbors, two elegant small tables replacing them. The new ones were spindly and Gavin was pretty sure he was going to wake up one morning, snag his foot on leg and that would be the end of the table and maybe him. 

But they looked nice. So did the matching lamps with plain shades that made the room look soft. Nines started stripping and even his hard planes appeared to have more give in the buttery hue. Gavin slid his hands around his waist before he could get to his pants. 

“You’re impeding my efficiency,” Nines scolded, even as he cupped Gavin’s cheek. 

“Must be hard after a long day of it. You even called in an extra human to make it more inefficient. Probably could’ve had this whole place set up in an hour on your own.” 

“Efficiency is not always the goal,” he leaned down to kiss him. 

They moved to the bed. Gavin touched his lips to every inch of Nines’ stomach and chest, mapped his shoulders with his tongue. Then let Nines turn him on his back and finger him like he was trying to disarm a bomb, all serious face and careful touch. They’d discovered how well it worked for them only recently, Gavin having all the joy of penetration and Nines the intensity of contact on his sensitive fingers. 

They curved together afterwards, Gavin fucked out and Nines’ LED circling so fast that the walls looked like a cheap nightclub. 

“What?’ Gavin poked him in the chest with one finger. “Why is the techno thinking light going?”

“The next set of upgrades being offered are functional genitalia. They are based on the ones used for sex worker models, but are meant to have more sensitivity and offer pleasure for both partners.” 

“Oh,” Gavin’s eyebrows went up. He poked him again. “That what you and Connor were talking about?” 

“Partially,” Nines wrapped a hand around Gavin’s offending digit. “He also had some news about a case and wanted to tell me he was proud of me again, but tried to say it in increasingly obscure ways so that took up a few moments.” 

“Did you hang him out to dry?” 

“Only for the first two attempts. It was kind of him to try. I like that he’s trying.” 

“That’s all anyone’s got, I guess,” Gavin allowed. 

“Should I get a penis?” 

“No,” Gavin said too fast probably. He winced. “I mean...it’s your body or whatever.” 

“But you don’t want me to.” 

“No.” 

“Why?” Nines released Gavin’s finger only to take his hand. 

“I...fuck this sounds so cheesy, but your body is the way your body is and that’s what I like,” he was going to blush himself to death right after moving. He wasn’t even going to get to enjoy the new coffee maker that Nines had carefully purchased. 

“It limits our capability.” 

“Bullshit it does,” he squeezed Nines hand hard, trying to work through his immediate anger. “We work damn well together, don’t we?” 

“I think so,” some reservation there. Ugh. 

“What do you think an extra dick will bring to this table?” 

“I could penetrate you. You like that.” 

“Forget me, what does it bring for you?” 

“I could experience an orgasm. You seem to enjoy those.” 

“Sweetheart, sometimes you still need to stop when I kiss you for too long,” which didn’t hurt anymore. It was kind of nice actually, the lulls where they separated and Gavin just talked until Nines was ready to begin again. “I think an orgasm might actually kill you.” 

“It would not,” Nines frowned,”but it was something that concerned me as well. Even if I allowed my sensors to be adjusted to accommodate it, it might muffle other things.” 

“Look, you want a dick, get a dick,” he forced himself to say. “It’s your body and we’ll figure out whatever you want to have. Dicks for everyone. Dicks for days.” 

“You are a dick.” 

“Hahaha, fucker.” 

“Not a fucker, that’s the topic at hand. Try to keep up, Gavin.” 

Gavin groaned and brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing one of Nines’ fingertips, “I will suck your circuits out through your new dick if that’s what you want, promise. I’m just bad at change, but I’m not going to stand in your way to orgasms.” 

“What if I wanted a vulva?” 

“Eh, I’ll figure it out,” he tried to imagine that. “I mean I’ve only touched one once and it was practically by accident, but there’s plenty of video guides out there. And you wouldn’t let me fuck up too bad.” 

“True.” 

“Would you want to switch up your pronouns?” 

“No, I find male pronouns suit me best,” Nines swiped his thumb over Gavin’s bottom lip. “I don’t know if I want genitals.” 

“You were pretty clear on the eating thing.” 

It had been a firm no. He still bought the gum from time to time, chewing on it pensively while he worked on files, but that was as far as Nines would allow. Food just didn’t interest him. 

“I’m already having sex, it would be another exploration of that. I wasn’t already consuming food.” 

“Okay,” he licked over the pad of Nines’ thumb. “It’s just that I can’t do the same for you, you know? I can’t modify myself to make me more android compatible.”

“Would you if you could?” 

He thought about it instead of just blurting something out, “Depends on what it would be. If I could get a brain implant or something so I could interface with you, I’d do that.” 

“That would be a fairly serious modification. More complex than genitalia.” 

The idea landed in his gut. Implausible as growing wings. Being able to give Nines his thoughts and feelings without the troublesome mouth sounds and body language. 

“Yeah, I would,” he frowned. “Does that make me a hypocrite?” 

“A little.” 

“Look, strap ons have got to be cheaper than android dicks, right? How about we try one, like a test run? See how it goes? It won’t overload you at least. Bet there’s some kind of fleshlight thingie that would work if you want to try both.” 

“Fleshlight,” Nines made a face. “What a horrible name.” 

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t name it. I never even owned one.” 

“You possess four different dildos.” 

“One of those is decorative.” 

“It was not on display in your old apartment.” 

“It was decorating my drawer, douchebag,” he groaned. 

“I’ll order a strapon,” Nines decided. “There is likely one already compatible with the candy cane seven inch silicone or is that the decorative one?” 

“...the glass one is decorative. I always think it’s going to shatter.” 

“You’re aware they’re designed for their purpose?” 

“Yeah, it’s not rational, sparky, get off my back.” 

“I’ve ordered the device.”

“Great.” 

And it was kind of great. They talked about sex some more, Gavin gave Nines the full body shivers again by licking his neck and then he passed out, face down on his pillow for a full eight hours. When he got up, there was already coffee in the pot and Nines was out on the balcony, sitting in one of the chairs. He made himself a mug and sat down in his lap, ignoring the other chair. 

It was still early, the sun making a valiant strive upwards. 

“How long do you think before we have a fight?” 

“Given our general track record, twenty to thirty minutes,” Nines rested his hand on the small of Gavin’s back. “But it won’t be serious. They’re never that serious.” 

Gavin hummed, “Let’s do this every morning for the rest of my life.” 

“All right,” Nines agreed quietly. No argument that it would soon be too cold for Gavin to be out here in pajamas in just a few weeks or the waste of time it might be. Or that Nines might wish the qualifier could be different.

There weren’t any cigarettes in the apartment. Gavin had a nicotine patch on his right arm. He barely drank these days. They walked for hours sometimes, following each other through the streets under the moon’s watchful eye. He was in good shape, passed his yearly physical for work with flying colors. If he was lucky, he could see another sixty years spreading out before him.

With spare parts and servicing, maybe even a body hop eventually, Nines’ consciousness could go on indefinitely. There would be many mornings without Gavin here to weigh him down in his chair and pester him. 

That wasn’t stopping Nines now. Maybe he held on a little tighter, but that was far different from letting go. And what else was love, but that? To have. To hold. Until death parted them. 

“I love you,” Gavin told him. 

“Drink your coffee, you’re going to give yourself a headache grinding away on that,” Nines glanced at him, a half-smile lingering there. “How is it I can see you thinking without an LED?” 

Gavin gave him the finger and grinned into his coffee. He let him have the last word, just this once.


End file.
